Premonitions
by MaverickLover2
Summary: The Brothers Maverick haven't seen each other in six months – until Bart starts having the same nightmare over and over. Will he be able to figure out just what it means before it's too late?
1. Prologue

Premonitions

Prologue

It wasn't often that they were at odds. In fact, as brothers go, they were far closer than most. Not only in age, but in looks, temperament, ideas and attitudes. Of course, it didn't hurt that they were a mere seventeen months apart in actual age. Or that the older one had darn near raised the younger one. As a matter of fact, either one would be hard pressed to remember the last time they'd disagreed.

But here they were, almost to the point of being angry that neither could see the other one's side of the argument. And that was when they finally decided to spend some time apart, which is why they hadn't seen each other in six months.

The older one, Bret, had spent the last few months in Casper, Wyoming. It was spring, and then summer, and it was a pleasant enough place to be. Normally he'd have been there a few days or weeks and moved on, but there was a girl named Ruby Jane, and something about her fascinated him. There were thirteen saloons in town and they were comfortable; pleasant enough to be in but not rowdy and disruptive. Every time he thought about leaving something happened to change his mind.

The younger one, Bart, was in Murfreesboro, Tennessee when he decided to head home to Texas. He'd spent most of his time wandering around Tennessee and Kentucky, and suddenly wanted to be in Little Bend before the weather turned cold. Besides, there was a girl there he'd always wanted to get to know, and he decided it was time to do just that. If she wasn't married by now.

What caused the original disagreement neither one could remember by this time, and it no longer seemed important. One night just outside of Conway, Arkansas, Bart had a terrible nightmare. He'd had those on and off since their momma died when he was just five, but his brother had usually been around when they happened. Bart woke up in a cold sweat and knew he was changing directions and heading for Wyoming instead of Texas. Something about this one made him realize that he needed to see his brother, and see him sooner rather than later. In the morning he switched direction and headed northwest, towards Casper. It was a good thing he did; neither of them knew it, but Bart Maverick was the only thing that stood between Bret Maverick and a painful death.


	2. Getting There

Chapter 1 – Getting There

Bart had started out that morning from Conway, determined to see if his brother was still in Wyoming. He sent a wire to the last address he had, the Casper Diamond Hotel, and asked to have a wire of confirmation returned to General Delivery in Russellville, his next stop. It took him all day to get there, but once he'd checked into the hotel he went to the telegraph office to see if there was a reply. He found a brief one _. 'Still here. You coming this way? Bret.'_

He sent one back to Casper. _'I am. Don't leave. Bart.'_

That night he had the same nightmare. The next morning he couldn't remember much of it, just that he had to get to his brother before he lost Bret forever. He was up at dawn and headed cross-country for Fayetteville. It meant sleeping on the trail but it would cut three or four days off the time needed to get there. His conscience argued with his back about a bedroll on the ground, but something in the nightmare kept tugging at him, and he gave up comfort for expediency.

From Fayetteville he hightailed it across Indian Territory and aimed straight for Wichita. He stopped there and spent a night; his back just wouldn't tolerate one more night on the hard ground without some relief. He had a hot meal and a bath and even went to sleep when he would normally be sitting down at a poker table. This time there was no nightmare, no dream of any kind, just blackness and a dread that he couldn't define.

The nightmares didn't return until he'd passed through Denver. Maybe it was the amount of country he'd covered in such a short period of time; maybe it was the altitude. He didn't remember much, but he remembered standing in a graveyard, watching a casket being lowered into the ground. He woke up screaming and was glad that he was alone under the stars, with only his horse for company.

Right past Fort Collins he went, then on through Cheyenne and ever more northwest, until he crossed the Wilderness Mountains and Forest. The closer he got to Bret the more unsettled he became; something was pushing him on faster and with more urgency than he'd ever felt in his life. Two days out of Casper he remembered more of the nightmare when he had it again; this time he stood in front of a saloon and watched as a brand new identity was painted on the front window. _'The Watering Hole'_ had replaced the name that adorned it previously, followed by _'Under New Ownership.'_ There was piano music and female laughter coming from inside, and he felt a mixture of terror and relief.

Without warning a girl came running out and headed straight up the boardwalk, ducking into an office with no name on it. Moments later she was back, this time with what could only be a doctor following close on her heels, his bag in hand. The saloon had gone deathly quiet, and inside they ran. He took one step forward towards the batwing doors and everything went black. He was cold, he was hungry, he was confused, but mostly he was scared. He knew it was the same nightmare over and over, but never once could he remember it from beginning to end. Bret's very existence was in danger; he was certain of that and nothing else.

He rode like a madman, stopping only long enough to give his mount sufficient time to rest before pushing on. Bart was so tired that on the last leg of the journey he fell asleep in the saddle and only woke up when he started to slip, but nothing was going to slow him down.

It was almost midnight on Thursday when he reached the outer edges of Casper, and he headed straight for the Diamond Hotel. He got a room and when the clerk looked at his registration, a question quickly followed. "Bart Maverick, eh? You related to Bret Maverick?"

"My brother. What room's he in?"

"Why, he's not here anymore. Mr. Maverick checked out two months ago."

Checked out? When Bart had told him not to leave? "Do you know where he went?"

"Yes, sir. He moved into the rooms over The Watering Hole."

"The Watering Hole?" His heart began racing and his stomach blanched. That was the name . . . "What's The Watering Hole?"

"Well, it used to be the Lucky Seven. Your brother renamed it when he won it a few months ago. We were sorry to see him go, but there's plenty of rooms to live in above the saloon. Can't say that I blame him."

"Where is this place?" He knew he should probably wait until morning – get a good night's sleep, take a bath, look like something more than a saddle tramp. But an undefinable force had been pushing him forward for weeks, and it wouldn't let him stop now.

"Half a block down, on the other side of the street. They're still open; they don't close up until four in the morning. You can't miss it. He's never mentioned a brother. Does he know you're coming?"

Bart nodded. "He knows. What room do I have?"

"Oh, sorry. Room sixteen. That's the room your brother had. Is that alright?"

A single word answer. "Sure." He turned and hurried from the hotel, determined to get to Bret as quickly as possible. The brothers were tall, taller than the average man, and Bart used his long legs to his advantage as he strode down the boardwalk. He crossed the street and was soon standing in front of the place . . . a good sized saloon, brightly lit up, with a brand new name painted on the window – 'The Watering Hole.' The lettering was a little bigger than it had been in his nightmare, and there was nothing written under the name. He shuddered involuntarily as the sound of piano music and female laughter drifted out and washed over him.

He forced himself across the threshold and inside the saloon. It was brighter than he expected it to be and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light. When he could look around comfortably without squinting his eyes swept the place from front to back. To the left was a piano with a middle-aged piano player and a much younger saloon girl leaning over the back of the instrument. She looked up at Bart and flashed him a smile, but he didn't seem to notice how pretty she was. He was too busy looking for his brother.

His eyes wandered right and he saw the two faro games being played. Both tables were packed and it surprised him, since this wasn't a Friday or Saturday night. Another saloon girl smiled at him, this one even more attractive than the first one, and started to walk towards him. He shifted his line of sight quickly and headed towards the far end of the saloon.

A long mahogany bar ran down the right side of the room, and it was so highly polished that it positively gleamed. One bartender was handling the crowd most efficiently. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and was balding, with long sideburns and a full mustache. He, too, smiled at Bart but paid no further attention; the men at the bar kept him busy. The middle and right side of the room held half a dozen poker tables, almost all of them full, and a roulette wheel nestled near the steps that went to the upstairs. There were two or three more girls scattered about the place, each one better looking than the last, and the entire saloon looked like it had just been painted. Trust Bret to own the cleanest saloon in town.

Bart looked everywhere for his brother but didn't see him until his eyes swept up the staircase. Big Brother was leaning on the railing upstairs, watching everything going on down on the floor. He looked good, even better than he had the last time they parted company. One thing the younger man had to admit was that Bret was probably the best looking man in the place, and he wore clothes well. Black pants, a silver gray coat with a silver paisley waistcoat, a ruffled shirt with a black silk string tie. No hat tonight, and Bret's curly black hair was a little longer than before. His face wore no smile, but it held a look of contentment that was usually reserved for the end of a successful poker night.

Bart never shifted his gaze, and eventually Bret's eyes swept the room and locked onto his brother. That's when the smile finally appeared, and the older brother's secret weapon, the previously unseen dimples, made their presence known. Bret straightened and descended the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, and Bart moved towards the back of the room to meet his brother. He was anxious about the kind of a greeting Bret would give him – there was a time in their lives when they had no qualms about embracing each other, but the last time they'd parted company it had been a handshake, and a rather quick one at that.

He needn't have worried. Bret gathered his little brother into an all-encompassing bear hug and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. "Probably shouldn't do that, I'm trail dusty," Bart explained and was completely ignored.

"Don't care," Bret grinned at him,"it's been too long since we saw each other for that to matter. Let me look at you. You've gained a little weight, at long last. And what's that growin' on your face, son? When did you quit shavin'?"

If Bart hadn't been so worried he would have laughed. It had been a running joke for years that he called Bret 'Pappy' and Bret referred to him as 'son,' due to their father-son relationship growing up. Bret was seven and Bart five when their mother died, and their father was one of the best and most skilled poker players in the West; consequently, he was in one of the saloons in their hometown of Little Bend, Texas most every night, and asleep most every day. Bart had been a sickly child, and it was up to his brother to take care of him more often than not.

Bart rubbed his hand over his chin – he'd forgotten about not taking the added time to shave the last four or five days and he had a lot of stubble on his face. "Forgot. I was in a hurry to get here."

That caught Bret's immediate attention. Bart was every bit as good looking as he was, though not as dark haired and, alas, dimple-less. Both were fastidious about their cleanliness and appearance. Something must be awfully wrong for the younger man to have skipped shaving for several days. "Why?" Bret asked him. "What wouldn't wait while you took care of your face?"

Bart shook his head. That's not the way he wanted this conversation to go, and he needed to do some backtracking. "Nah, just got lazy. You're lookin' good – and prosperous. When did all this happen?"

"About five months ago, I guess. Just got on one of those streaks one night when I was playin' against Max Ludlow and he lost the whole place to me – lock, stock and barrel. She's somethin', ain't she?"

"The Watering Hole?"

The older brother shrugged. "Didn't like her name – Lucky Seven. So I changed it. I remember Pappy talkin' about a place in St. Louis called The Watering Hole, and I used that. She seems to like it."

"What are you gonna do with her?" On more than one occasion one or both of the brothers had passed up the opportunity to buy part or all of a saloon, not wanting to be tied to one place. Especially a place that got as cold as Wyoming. Yet Bart got the distinct feeling that Bret was enjoying this, and the thought of moving on hadn't entered his mind.

"Do with her? For now at least, I'm gonna run her. She's makin' good money, Bart, and I'm enjoying myself. Just bide my time and see what happens." There was a loud noise from the vicinity of the roulette wheel, and Bret looked up sharply. "Gotta go see what that's about. You check into the hotel?"

"Yeah, room sixteen."

The saloon owner gave a sharp laugh. "My old room. You look worn out – go on back to the hotel and get some sleep. I'll come up in the morning and we can check you out and bring your gear down here. I've got two extra rooms upstairs, and you'll like the price – free." He slapped his brother on the shoulder and headed for the back of the saloon. "I'm glad you're here. I missed you somethin' awful."

"See you in the mornin'," Bart called after him, and watched Bret move through the saloon until he lost sight of his brother.


	3. Alive

Chapter 2 – Alive

He'd been awake and lying in bed for fifteen or twenty minutes when the familiar knock on the door came. Bret had a distinct way of knocking so that you knew it was him; Bart threw back the covers and unlocked the door. "Still in bed?"

The younger brother nodded sleepily. "Yeah. Just lazy, I guess. What time is it, anyway?"

"A little after ten o'clock. Which sounds best to you . . . breakfast or checkin' out?"

"You got a bath in that upstairs at the saloon?"

Bret shook his head and laughed. "Not yet, but there's a bath house two doors down. You read my mind – I've been thinkin' about havin' one put in. You come back last night and fall into bed?"

"Yeah, I did. You were right, I couldn't keep my eyes open."

"Just get dressed; you can get clean later. We'll check you outta the hotel and stop for breakfast before we leave. How's that sound?"

Bart was already on his way to putting on yesterday's clothes. "Fine, as long as I don't embarrass you."

Another laugh from the older brother. "You never embarrass me, Brother Bart. Whatever gave you that idea?"

His thoughts drifted back to the last time they'd been together. Bret had been embarrassed, and angry, and totally out of sorts with him; he was certain about that. Everything was smooth sailing right now, and he wanted to keep it that way. At least until they talked about the nightmare.

"I'll be quick, then, cause I didn't unpack last night."

"War bag in the closet?"

"Uh-huh."

A few short minutes later and they were sitting in the dining room at the hotel. The front desk clerk smiled when Bart signed out, making a joke about not being able to keep Mavericks in room sixteen for very long. They went straight for food; there'd been no supper last night for either of them, and both wanted breakfast in the worst way. Bart was already on his third cup of coffee when the food arrived.

They ate in relative silence for the first few minutes before Bret spoke. "Now, tell me the truth. You dodged my question last night. What was so important that you couldn't even take the time to shave?"

Bart rubbed his chin automatically – it was even worse today than it had been when he arrived in Casper. "It's a long story. Join me at the bath house and I'll fill you in."

"Alright, why not? One of the girls is settin' up a room for you; that'll give her more time to finish. Cody's got the bar this morning and he's well-equipped to handle everything."

After breakfast they returned to The Watering Hole. The saloon was quiet and it took no time to gather what they needed for the bathhouse and make their way there. The place was far too full of men for Bart to feel comfortable and he begged off revealing all to Bret until they were alone and back at the saloon.

Clean, shaved and feeling a lot more comfortable, Bart got settled in his room upstairs and then met Bret in his office. It was low-key but populated with furniture that matched the mahogany bar – elegant but not ostentatious. "Cigar?" Bret offered, and Bart smoked while he inspected the room.

They went back to Bret's office. "Never thought I'd see you in anything like this," the younger Maverick observed when he sat down in one of the two dark blue chairs on the far side of the desk.

"No? Why not?" Bret asked as he took a draw on his own cigar.

"Just didn't figure you were the type to sit still long enough to be involved in an operation that didn't move around every few days."

"People can change, Bart."

"People. Not Mavericks."

"You tryin' to avoid me again?" Bret had gotten that 'time to talk' look in his eyes, and he was determined to find out why Bart was dodging him.

Before Bart could get started there was a knock on the office door, and Bret yelled, "Come in." A sandy brown head appeared in the doorway, and quick introductions were made. "Bart, this is Cody Jessup, my head bartender. Cody, this is my brother Bart. What's up?"

"We've got a problem with the liquor delivery, boss. Can you come downstairs and get it straight?"

Bret got up from behind the desk. "Come on, Brother Bart, now that you look decent I'll introduce you to everybody that's here."

The three men went downstairs and Bret took over the liquor discussion. "Something to drink, Mr. Maverick?" Cody asked as he slipped behind the bar.

"Coffee, and the name is Bart, Cody."

The bartender chuckled as he poured Bart's coffee. "Is that a family trait? Or is it just too early in the day for whiskey?"

"Nope, I guess you could say it runs in the family. Nobody drinks whiskey. Never did like the taste of it."

"Something to be said for that, I guess. Management's not gonna drink up all the profits."

"That's true." Bart glanced over at his brother and the liquor supplier just as they shook hands. One of the girls from last night entered the saloon from the back entrance and sidled up to Bart.

"Hello, handsome. You new in town?"

Cody didn't let Bart answer. "He is, Sammy, and he's the boss's brother. Bart Maverick, Sammy Weston."

Sammy shook her head. "Dang, we finally get a couple good-lookin' men in this town and they're related to each other."

Bart tipped his hat. "Sorry, ma'am. It's purely an accident of birth."

"Don't you know any good-lookin' men you're not related to?" Sammy directed her question at Bret, just joining his brother at the bar.

"No, Sammy, the only one I can think of is Beau. Beau Maverick, and he's our cousin."

"We could always introduce her to Dandy Jim Buckley." Bart looked sincere and helpful, but Bret shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that to a snake, much less a sweet girl like Sammy."

Before the conversation could go any further, four Bar Z cowboys blew in the batwing doors, and Sammy went to take care of them. Bret eyed his younger brother and reminded Bart they'd been interrupted upstairs and had something important to discuss. At least it seemed to be important.

Bret left instructions with Cody that they were not to be disturbed, and the brothers made their way back to the office. Bret removed his coat and hung it on the chair behind his desk while Bart lit another cigar. "Enough stalling," Bret pronounced. Bart sighed in anticipation of how difficult his brother might be to convince there was a hidden danger that had yet to be defined.

"You know about my nightmares."

A worried look spread rapidly across Bret's face. "You don't still have those, do you?"

"Sometimes."

"You've had one recently?"

Bart nodded, trying to make the news as non-threatening as possible. "The same one, several times. I can't remember the whole thing, but each time I dream it I remember a different piece. I was just outside Conway, Arkansas when I saw it the first time. I don't remember most of the particulars from that one, just that I woke in a cold sweat, worried and afraid. I'd been gettin' ready to head for Texas and this dream stopped me dead in my tracks. I changed direction to see if you were still here . . . that's when I sent the wire. All I was sure of was that I needed to see you, to get to you as fast as possible.

"The next piece of it I saw was a graveyard . . . and not the one in Texas. There was a newly dug grave, and a casket bein' lowered into that grave. There was no marker, no headstone, nothin' to tell me who was in the casket. I'd made camp on the trail that night – and it's a good thing I did. I woke up screamin', Bret, screamin' at the top pf my lungs. I was . . . I was so shaken up. I thought . . . I thought it was you. I was decimated. I kept ridin', headin' towards Casper as fast as I could get here.

"Two days out I saw it one more time. This time I was standin' in front of a saloon . . . this saloon . . . with a new name painted on the window. The name was 'The Watering Hole,' and right under that it said 'Under New Ownership.' There was a piano playin' and a woman's laughter spillin' out into the street, and then she came runnin' out from inside."

"She?" Bret asked. It was the first thing he'd said.

"A woman. I don't know who, I haven't seen her yet. I looked for her last night, but she wasn't here. She ran down the street to the doctor's office and ran back with him followin' her. They came back to the saloon and ran inside . . . and I woke up."

"That's it? That's all there was?"

Bart nodded and looked mournful. "I've seen other things, things that made me wonder where this all comes from . . . but nothing like this. It pushed me the whole trip here, like it had a grip on my throat and wouldn't let go, like I had to get here while you were still . . . "

"Alive?" came the question from Bret. He said it so quietly, so calmly, it made Bart doubt his sanity.

"Yes."


	4. Threat Assessment

Chapter 3 – Threat Assessment

The brothers sat and stared at each other for almost ten minutes. Finally, the younger one spoke. "Takin' this awful calm, ain't you?"

"What did you expect me to do, Bart? Not all of your premonitions come true, do they?"

Bret had a point. And even if his nightmares did become a reality, not every moment of them was correct. For example – the saloon window. And what didn't happen afterward with the girl . . .

"No, they don't. But this one, Bret . . . it's so strong, and it's been followin' me around for weeks. And it was about you. I couldn't take no chances."

The older brother smiled. He'd learned a long time ago to pay attention to the nightmares and premonitions of his younger brother – the knowledge they provided of things to come had saved his hide on more than one occasion. He'd also learned that not every dream or premonition Bart had came true, and life had been going so well for so long that he couldn't help but smile. "I understand. And I appreciate the warning, I really do. But things have been goin' real good for me the past few months, and I can't see anything out there to change that anytime soon. So why don't you just relax and get caught up on your sleep – and stay here with me for a while? Sure would be glad to have you around for a spell."

Bart Maverick was a bright man. Bright enough to know when he was being 'dismissed' and not be offended since his brother wanted only what was best for him. But this was one time that he had no intention of ignoring the warnings signs that were presented to him, even if he meant to let his brother think he'd done just that. No, the best thing to do was stick around as Bret suggested, keeping his eyes and ears open for however long it took until the very real threat presented itself.

"Maybe you're right. I could use a little rest. Sure you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind? I've missed you these last few months, Bart. I'd be mighty pleased to have you stay here a while."

Bart smiled. There were moments – just moments, mind you – when Bret was easy to manipulate. This was one of them.

Bret smiled back at his younger brother, knowing full well that Bart was trying to maneuver him into doing something he'd had every intention of doing. It was a good move for both of them, even if they thought they had to be devious to protect each other.

XXXXXXXX

They spent the rest of the day together, Bret taking Bart around town to introduce him to everyone of any possible importance. By the time they returned to the saloon, Bart had so many names and faces in his head that all he could do was joke about it.

"You know every man in town?"

"One way or another," the quick answer came back.

"Notice you didn't introduce me to any women."

"Most of the women I know work at the saloon."

Bart waited half a minute before asking another question. "MOST of the women?"

"Uh, yeah."

"But not all of them?" There was no answer this time. "Who don't you want me to meet?"

They were sitting at a poker table all the way in the back, and Gaither McLean, the evening bartender, had just refilled their coffee cups. A chuckle slipped out of him before he could get away from the table, and Bart caught him by the arm. "Who'd he miss, Gaither?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Bart, I ain't been here long enough to answer questions like that about the boss. He's liable to fire me if I do."

Without turning loose of Gaither's arm, Bart turned his head towards his brother. "Would you do that, Bret? Would you fire Gaither if he told?"

"Yes. In an instant," Bret answered, then tempered that answer with a laugh. "Of course not, Gaither. Tell him who I missed."

"Miss Ruby," the bartender announced shyly as Bart turned loose of his arm.

"Who's Miss Ruby?"

"Wait till tonight," the saloon owner answered. "She'll join us for supper."

"Well, should I be on my best behavior for the lady?" Bart asked jokingly.

"Yes, you should," Bret answered seriously.

"Then I shall."

XXXXXXXX

They arrived at the Chateau Elazar right before seven o'clock, and Bart was surprised to find a full-blown French restaurant in the heart of Casper, Wyoming. Not only that but, according to his brother, they served the finest steak in the entire town.

That was not the only surprise. Once they were seated, Bret ordered a bottle of wine. And not one of the sweet reds that Bart favored, but a light, fruity white wine, the likes of which his brother had never before tasted.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Big Brother?"

"Bout time I learned some new tricks, ain't it?"

That was not the only 'new trick' his brother had learned, as Bart soon found out. The maître de brought a woman to the table, and what a woman. She was tall and willowy, with pale blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. She wore a dress of bluish-gray silk that set off her eyes like sapphires, and her carriage was elegant. Bret stood and kissed her, then helped seat her between the brothers before making introductions.

"Miss Ruby Jane Brissette, my brother, Bart Maverick. Bartley, to be precise. Bart, this is Miss Ruby."

Bart had every intention of standing to kiss the lady's hand, but he took one look at her and caught his breath. She was the girl that had come running from the saloon in his nightmare – the one that rushed up the boardwalk to get the doctor. He found himself frozen in place, unable to move, for almost half a minute. So long, in fact, that Bret leaned forward. "Bart, what's wrong? What is it?"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry." He finally broke the spell and kissed the back of her hand. "I wasn't expecting . . . well, anyone so beautiful. I apologize for staring."

Ruby Jane tittered slightly and blushed. "No apology needed, Bartley. Or do you prefer Bart?"

"Bart, please, ma'am. The only one that still calls me Bartley is my pap . . . father."

"Ah, as your brother prefers Bret to Breton. Your mother exhibited excellent taste in names; at least I assume it was your mother that named you both. I understand she died when you were both quite young. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Bret seemed confused by his brother's reaction to Ruby Jane. Bart had been nothing but suave and charming since the summer he turned seventeen, yet he was stumbling all over himself like a schoolboy. "Yes, ma'am, we lost a lot when Momma passed. But it left us with an even stronger bond – with each other. A bond that will never be broken."

"Enough about dying. Ruby Jane, I'm pleased that you finally get to meet my brother."

"Did you just arrive last night, Bart? And did you spend the day on a whirlwind tour of the town, as Bret had threatened to do to you?"

Bart nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I did, to both of them. He acted like a proud father, runnin' me from one place to another so's I could meet everyone. If I didn't know better I'd think he was campaignin' for mayor or somethin'."

That elicited a laugh from Bret. "Nope, Bart, I was just showin' you off. I been talkin' about you for so long that everybody was waitin' to see if you was real."

' _Is that all it is?'_ Bart wondered. _'Or is there something else goin' on here?'_ Despite what he'd said earlier about Mavericks not changing, there were definitely things about Bret that were different. He'd been in the same town for six months and didn't seem in a hurry to leave. He'd won an entire saloon and rather than selling it, had decided to run the place. What's more, he seemed to enjoy doing it. Then there was the biggest change of all – it looked like big brother had settled down with one girl, and not at all like any girl he'd ever gotten involved with before. This wasn't the kind of girl you 'fooled around' with – this was the kind of girl you married.

Bret and Ruby Jane had their heads together, laughing about something, and Bart wondered if she was the threat to his brother that he'd perceived. Or was his imagination just working overtime? There was only one way to find out, and that was to stick around. Good thing he'd already made up his mind to do so.


	5. The Need to Know

Chapter 4 – The Need to Know

The nightmare changed, and that was something Bart didn't expect. This time he was on the boardwalk, in front of the saloon, but the lights were off and the building was locked up tight. It was almost sunrise and he could hear someone inside, moaning as if they were in extreme pain. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then stumbled inside in the dark.

The noise was coming from behind the bar, and he rushed towards the sound. Just as he rounded the end of the bar he could see black boots and black striped pants, but the remainder of the man was obscured by the girl kneeling on the floor next to him. "I'm sorry, honey," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry."

The moans continued for another minute or so, finally fading into nothingness. The girl stood up as a man unknown to Bart appeared at the head of the bar. "Is it over?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, and Bart's eyes went to the body on the floor, but he still couldn't tell if it was his brother or not.

"Help me move him," the man ordered, and the girl bent down to do so. Bart reached out a hand to stop her, but he couldn't. Everything had begun to fade.

"Noooooooo!" he wailed, needing desperately to know who the dead body was. There was no answer for him, however, and he woke up in a cold sweat. He couldn't lie in bed any longer, so he rolled out of it and made his way to the window. It was light outside, somewhere around seven o'clock in the morning, he figured. Down the stairs he went in the dark and around the back end of the bar to the coffee pots. By now he knew where everything was, having been in town for almost a week, and waking early every morning. It didn't matter when he went to bed, he was awake about the same time each day.

"Are you up again?" Bret's voice cut through the stillness and echoed down the stairs.

"Sorry," Bart answered after he'd put the coffee on.

"Same dream?" was the next question.

"Nope, got a different one this time."

"Was I in it?"

"I don't know for sure," Bart replied, climbing the stairs.

"Wanna tell me about it?" That was Bret's last query as Bart reached the top.

"Not particularly."

"Anybody else in it?"

"Bret, go back to bed. I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Bret turned and padded back down the hall, towards his bedroom. Bart hadn't meant to sound churlish, but he never liked to discuss his dreams until he had a chance to think about them, and he certainly hadn't any time to do that. And this one bothered him.

Why was the girl in it, and what did she mean when she said, "I'm sorry?" How had the man on the floor died, and was it Bret? The pants and boots sure looked familiar. And most of all, who was the stranger that wanted help carrying the body out from behind the bar?

Within a few minutes Bart had dressed and gone back downstairs, pouring a cup of coffee when he got behind the bar. What was it that kept waking him at the same time every morning? He'd sat in several times when Bret turned up a dealer short, but other than that he hadn't played much poker. His conscious mind was too busy trying to figure out what his unconscious mind was trying to tell him, and for only the second time in his life he felt no pull towards the poker tables. Bret had noticed his lack of play but had yet to say anything, assuming Bart would sit down with poker when he felt like it.

It was too early to do anything else, so he took his coffee to a table and pulled out a deck of cards. Maverick Solitaire would occupy him for the next hour until a persistent knocking at the front door attracted his attention. It was Cody Jessup, and Bart got up and unlocked the door. "Still not sleepin' past seven in the mornin', Bart? Did you try what I suggested?"

Bart grimaced and shook his head. Cody had recommended a shot of whiskey in a glass of warm milk, but the mere thought of whiskey and milk together was enough to turn the gambler's stomach. "No, Cody, I don't think my stomach could handle it."

"You'd be surprised; it's a lot easier goin' down than it sounds. How about cuttin' back on the coffee at night?"

"I been tryin' to do that, but it ain't helped so far. Maybe the bed's too soft."

Cody poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled Bart's cup. "I've tried sleepin' in that bed. I wouldn't call it soft."

"Maybe I've just got too much on my mind."

"Maybe. You tried talkin' to the boss about whatever's botherin' you?"

Bart shook his head. "Not yet. I can't get it straight enough in my own head to talk to my brother about it." Bart and Cody had gotten to know each other; there was friendship and a mutual respect rapidly growing between the two men. Bart was comfortable with the bartender, and he'd told Jessup about the nightmares and premonitions that had plagued him since childhood. Not the particulars of what they were about – merely the fact that they existed and had for some time. Cody hadn't pried and listened to the gambler as he explained how his 'visions' had colored parts of his life.

"Sounds like somethin's changed."

A nod accompanied the answer. "It has. I've seen somethin' different."

"And this one's got you bothered more than the others?"

"You could say that."

Before they could get any further in the discussion, Bret came down the stairs, fully dressed and ready for another day. "You two are killin' me," he laughed as he walked behind the bar and poured a cup of coffee for himself. "I need more sleep."

Bret might require more sleep, but right now Bart had gotten the answer he'd been waiting for since the nightmare ended. The older brother was wearing the same black boots and black striped pants that Bart saw in his premonition.

Cody went back to the bar, taking his empty cup with him. "Another day, gentlemen. Time to get to work."

Bret sounded pleased as he sat down. "You and Cody have really taken to each other, haven't you?"

Bart nodded. "He seems like a good guy. Almost as good as my brother."

"And nowhere near as nosy."

"You may be right, there." Bart finished the last of his coffee and turned to face Bret. "Tell me about Ruby Jane."

"Why the sudden interest?"

"I have my reasons. What do you know about her?"

"Let's see . . . she's twenty-two, comes from Topeka, where her father still lives. She makes ladies hats, got a little store down the street. Seems to do alright. No brothers or sisters. She knows how to ride a horse but she's a lady, Bart, not the kind we usually meet. She's got class and style, and she seems to be rather fond of me for some reason."

"How longs she lived here?"

"Three years. Her Ma and Pa came with her, but her Ma got sick and died, and her Pa went back to Topeka. She decided to stay."

"Know anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Was she involved with anyone before you met her? Does she go to church? Is she thinkin' of you as marriage material? Are you thinkin' of her that way? Who are her friends? What else do you know about her?" The questions had just poured out in a rush, and he hadn't meant them to sound as suspicious as they did. But now that they were out, he wanted answers.

"Does she go to . . .? What is wrong with you, boy? This ain't some hardened criminal we're talkin' about. This is a friend of mine."

"Is she, Bret? Is she just a friend? Or is she somethin' more?"

"Why, Bart? Does it make that big a difference? Why do you have all those questions about Ruby Jane? What's so important that you need all that information?"

How could Bart answer his brother? What was he supposed to say, _' I need to know everything I can about her because I saw her standing over your dead body, and I think she might have killed you?'_


	6. Mama Rosita's

Chapter 5 – Mama Rosita's

One of the prettiest of the girls that worked at The Watering Hole was Verena. She was young and fresh looking, with curly brown hair and a smile that wouldn't quit. Bart had caught her watching him two or three times since he'd been there, so when there was a lull in business that night, he started talking to her and offered her a drink. She seemed shy with him, but friendly, and they sat at one of the empty poker tables and chatted for quite a while before he asked her the question he'd really wanted to ask. "What do you know about Ruby Jane?"

"Are you interested in . . . well, you know she seems to . . . I mean, she's sweet on Mr. Bret, ain't she?"

"I don't want to romance her, Verena. I just want to find out somethin' about her."

"Why don't you ask your brother?" There was no guile in her question, just curiosity.

"He's a little . . . touchy on the subject."

"Ah." She didn't say anything for the longest time, just sat and swirled the whiskey in her glass. When she finally did speak her voice was soft and wistful. "Ruby Jane is a lady. Just like I wanted to be, but you can see there ain't no chance of that happenin'."

"Verena . . . you're a lady. Just a different kind."

She laughed gently. Her laugh was just as attractive as her smile, but romance was the furthest thing from Bart's mind. "Yeah. But I wanted to be that kind. She's educated, and got manners, and knows how to do somethin' besides gettin' cowboys to buy her drinks." Verena sighed before continuing. "Mr. Bret met her in the Casper General Store one afternoon. Least that's what he said. Before you know it they was goin' to lunch and dinner, and she was askin' him to help her design hats." Bart gave her a puzzled look and she clarified quickly. "Oh, no, not women's hats. Men's hats."

"What? How?"

Verena giggled. "Just ideas for hats, is all. He suggests things, and she makes 'im. He says it's fun and takes his mind off business. And he gets to spend more time with Miss Ruby."

Bart gave that some thought before asking his next question. "What do you know about her before they met each other?"

A shake of those pretty brown curls. "Not much. I only been here in town a few months myself. You lookin' for somethin' special?"

"No . . . no. Just tryin' to get some information. Don't say anything to my brother, alright?"

The saloon girl giggled again. "I swear. But you know who you should talk to . . . Billy Flynn. He used to work at the General Store before he went to the Bar Z. He's lived here since he was a young 'un. I bet he knows way more about stuff than I do."

"The Bar Z, huh? Don't that bunch come in here once in a while?" Bart asked.

"Yeah, every couple weeks."

Bart took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "Thank you, Verena. You've been a big help."

One last giggle from her as she got up from the table. "You're a real gentleman, Mr. Bart. Just like your brother. You two sure are different from Max."

Before Bart could ask her anything else about the former owner she'd hurried away. While they'd sat and talked the saloon had gotten busy, and Bret came downstairs from his office. The younger brother vacated the table and fell into step with his sibling, who was circling the perimeter.

"Verena's a pretty girl."

Bart nodded. "Yes, she is."

"That's all you got to say?"

"Yep."

"How about some supper?" Bret asked.

"Where's Ruby Jane?"

"Doin' somethin'. We're on our own tonight." It was the first time all week that the woman hadn't joined them.

"Fine by me. But I need somethin' besides the Chateau Elazar. Casper got any cantina's hidden away anywhere?"

"Funny you should ask that. There's only one – Mama Rosita's, way at the far end of town. It's not to Ruby Jane's taste, so I don't go there often – but the food's good. You up for it?"

Bart's eyes lit up. "Sounds like my kinda place. Horses or buggy?"

"Buggy. It's out front already. You ready to go?"

"Are you kidding? I'm starvin'."

The older brother laughed. "I don't hear that every day." They walked towards the front door and Bret called over his shoulder, "Cody, Gaither's comin' in early. Hang on till we get back, would ya?"

"Sure thing, boss," drifted their way as they walked out the batwing doors.

It only took a few minutes to get there, and once he'd seen the place, Bart understood why it wasn't _'to Ruby Jane's taste.'_ Old and dingy looking outside, it was bright and clean inside. They got a table in the back and returned the bottle of mescal when the Señorita brought it, ordering coffee instead. Bart had noticed that Bret didn't seem to be eating as much as he usually did, but tonight he ate everything on his plate and most of what Bart couldn't finish.

"Got your appetite back, huh?"

Bret looked rather sheepish as he answered. "Yeah, don't know what's been goin' on lately. Every time I eat supper I feel sorta sick afterward."

"But not tonight?"

"Nope, not tonight. Everything feels fine."

They drank their coffee and talked and had a pleasant evening. Bret paid for the food; they were getting ready to leave when a stranger walked into the cantina. He was shorter than Bret and heavier than Bart; he wore a dark brown frock coat with a bright gold vest and no gun belt. His hair was dark like Bret's, but his eyes were a pale blue color, and the hat on his head was brown. Bart knew him in an instant; he just couldn't place where he knew the man from. He walked straight to their table and stopped right in front of Bret.

"Still waitin' for that rematch poker game, Maverick," he half-sneered, half-growled.

"You know where I am, Max. It ain't like I'm duckin' you."

"You sure?"

Bret's eyes got cold and hard, and his voice took on the same low growl as the man he was talking to. "I'm sure. You want me, you know where you can find me." With that, he grabbed his brother by the elbow and guided him towards the front door.

"Not a friend of yours, I take it?" Bart finally got a chance to ask once they were in the buggy and on the way back to the saloon.

"Nope." Bart waited for Bret to elaborate or explain, but there was nothing further said.

"Who was it, Bret?" Still no answer, and they were almost at The Watering Hole. "Who was it?" he repeated, a little more forcefully.

"That," Bret finally spit the words out, "was Max Ludlow."


	7. Truth or Fiction?

Chapter 6 – Truth . . . or Fiction?

" _That," Bret finally spit the words out, "was Max Ludlow."_

The declaration rang in Bart's ears long after they'd gotten out of the buggy and gone into the saloon. Business had picked up while they were at supper and since it was long past time for Cody to go home, Bart stayed behind the bar and kept cowboys glasses full, along with Gaither. They were too busy to do much talking, but it afforded Bart a lot of time to hear the conversations being held on the other side of the bar. And they proved to be very interesting, indeed.

"This place sure has gotten livelier."

"That's because Ludlow's gone. Maverick runs honest games."

"Nobody runs honest games."

"You ain't played here much, have you? Maverick's fired more dealers than he's kept because they cheated."

"Yeah, he don't water the drinks, neither."

"Where'd this guy come from? And how do we get him to stay in town?"

"Just keep comin' in when Bar Z gets our nights out."

It was the last remark that caught Bart's full attention. He finally asked the cowboy that had just spoken, "Y'all work for the Bar Z?"

"Sure do, partner. And you are?" The man that answered him was mid-twenties, blonde hair on the long side, no facial hair, and cleaner than most of the other cowboys standing at the bar.

"Maverick the younger. Name's Bart. You know Billy Flynn?"

The blonde man laughed. "I sure do. You're talkin' to him."

Bart stuck his hand across the bar. "Verena told me you're the man to talk to for some information I need."

Flynn took the offered hand and they shook. "She did, huh? What kind of information?"

Bart picked up a whiskey bottle and came around the front of the bar. "I'll be back in ten minutes, Gaither," he called over his shoulder. "Mr. Flynn, there's a nice little table in the back just waiting for us. And I promise nothin' immoral or illegal."

"You buyin'?" Billy asked as they headed towards the far end of the saloon.

"I am," Bart answered. "Long as you're talkin'."

Fifteen minutes later Bart didn't have any more useful information than he did when he started. He was about to give up asking questions when Flynn said something that caught Maverick's attention. "Sorry I can't be any more help than that, Mr. Maverick. I just don't know that much about Miss Brissette. She always kept pretty much to herself after her run-in with Ludlow."

"Ludlow? What happened between her and Ludlow?"

"When she first came to town, that little shop she's got was empty but up for sale. Her Ma and Pa tried to buy it, and that's when Max decided he wanted it for somethin' or other. Wanted to expand and own more than just the Lucky Seven. Town fathers sold to Old Man Brissette and Ludlow was none too happy. Went in there one day after she opened up and threatened to wreck the place. Somebody called Sheriff Talley, and he arrested Ludlow. He stayed away from her after that. Sometime the following year her Ma caught the fever and died, and she almost went back to Kansas with her Pa. Everybody was surprised when he left, and Ruby Jane stayed – they thought maybe she had a beau that nobody knew about."

"Did she?"

Billy shook his head. "Nope. Not until your brother. That's about all I can tell you."

"Did Bret and Ruby Jane really meet at the General Store?" Bart asked as he poured another whiskey for Flynn.

"That's what I heard. She dropped a package or somethin', and he picked it up. Did you know she's got him goin' to church on Sunday mornin' with her? They make a real fine lookin' couple, those two."

Bart seemed distracted and didn't say anything, so Billy finally asked a question. "You gonna stay here in town with your brother after they get married?"

That word brought Bart back to the present. "What? Married? Who said anything about them gettin' married?"

"Everybody just figures . . . "

"Bret ain't said nothin' about that. Leastways not to me."

"Rumor was he already asked her, and she said yes."

Could that be true? Would Bret do something like that and not tell him, not even drop a hint? Who was this man wearing Bret Maverick's skin, this man that had undergone so many changes in six short months?

"Mr. Maverick?"

The gambler looked up to see Gaither frantically trying to get his attention from behind the bar. Bart got up from the table but left the bottle. "Thanks, Billy, for the information. Do me a favor and keep this just between us, would ya?"

"Sure thing, Bart. Brother's gotta stick together, right?"

"That they do, Billy. That they do," Bart agreed as he hurried back to the bar, more confused than ever. The rest of the night sped by, and the saloon stayed busy until almost closing time. Bret had given him a set of keys and he used them to lock the front doors when the last man at the bar left.

"Whew," Gaither stated profoundly. "Sorry I had to call you back, but I couldn't keep up with the boys, and they was gettin' rowdy."

"No, it was my fault, Gaither. I promised you I'd only be ten minutes. Bret go upstairs with tonight's receipts?"

"Yes, sir, about twenty minutes ago. Seems funny to see him without Miss Ruby on his arm."

"I heard a rumor tonight. Would you tell me if you've heard it?"

A quick nod of the head. "Sure, Mr. Bart."

"That Bret and Ruby Jane are gonna get married, and he's already asked her and she's accepted." The bartender kept wiping down the end of the bar and didn't say anything for almost a full minute. Finally Bart asked again, "Did you hear that, Gaither?" Still no response but silence. Bart looked at Gaither in frustration. "Is that your way of tellin' me your answer's yes?"

"Yes . . . sir, Mr. Bart. I've heard that said."

"Do you know if it's true?"

This time Gaither responded quickly. "No, sir, I don't know if it's true or not."

The two men worked side by side for almost an hour, cleaning the bar and washing glasses, until Bret finally appeared at the top of the stairs. "You almost done down there?"

"We would be if you'd come help," his brother answered, then turned to the bartender. "Go ahead and go, Gaither. I'll finish up." In less than five minutes the brothers Maverick were alone in the saloon, with Bart washing glasses and Bret drying.

"Wouldn't do this when we were kids," Bret laughed. "Is this our penance?"

"Bret . . . have you asked Ruby Jane to marry you?" Bart got the same silence from his brother he'd gotten from the bartender. "Have you?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

Another minute with no answer. "What if I do?"

How was Bart supposed to answer him? _'I don't think that would be wise . . . because I think Ruby Jane's in cahoots with Max Ludlow . . . and the two of them are tryin' to kill you?'_

"Do you love her that much?" It was the only thing the younger brother could think of to ask the older brother at that exact moment without giving away anything that he suspected.

"I don't . . . I ain't . . . oh hell, Bart. I think I do."

Time was running short. If Bret asked Ruby Jane to marry him . . . no matter how much this man had changed over the past six months . . . Bart couldn't lose him. To marriage, maybe . . . if that was what he really wanted. But not to death. He had to find a way to prevent that. No matter what it took.


	8. Proof

Chapter 7 – Proof

There was no dreaming that night, no premonitions, no nightmares. Hard for any of that to happen when there was no sleep.

There'd been nights like that before; nights when no matter how tired Bart was, he could close his eyes but slumber wouldn't come. He wasn't surprised to lie there and pray for the night sounds to fade into oblivion, and for his consciousness to go with them, but there was too much swirling around in his brain to let that happen. Too many questions lingered, with no answers in sight. What was there about Ruby Jane Brissette that made him so suspicious of her? Everyone else thought she was a classy lady, a good match for his brother, a woman who'd make an excellent wife. Bart didn't know her very well – actually, he didn't know her at all, but there was something about her he just didn't trust.

It could have been the nightmares. He tried to ignore them when he thought about her, but they colored his every opinion. When he was around her he couldn't help but wonder what was beneath that calm, cool exterior. And what was her connection to Max Ludlow, another enigma he'd learned nothing about? If they were truly at odds at one time, why did he see them as conspirators? And conspirators at what, exactly? While Ludlow might have a reason for wanting to see his brother dead, what reason was there for Ruby Jane?

After a while he gave up and rolled out of bed, doing his best to keep from waking Bret. He needed to think and he couldn't do that here in this room, in his brother's saloon. Even the words sounded outlandish – his brother's saloon. He got dressed and went downstairs, out the front door and down the street to the livery, where his horse waited. A few minutes later he was headed south towards Fort Rollins, and the further he got from Casper the more his mind cleared. He knew virtually nothing about Max Ludlow, except he had a bad disposition and was willing to gamble everything he owned – and lose.

What was the connection between Ruby Jane and Ludlow? From what Billy Flynn had told him, there was none. Max had threatened Ruby and her property, yet the charges were dropped. Why? There'd been no further interaction between the two that Billy knew of, but something kept Ruby in town when her father returned to Kansas. Speculation was a 'secret' beau. What if that was true, but the beau wasn't quite so secret? Could something besides anger and resentment have developed between the two? And if it did, why did they keep it hidden from everyone?

Bart needed more information, and he wasn't going to get it by riding away from Casper. Reluctantly he turned his horse around and headed back to town, determined to get his questions answered. Bret's very life depended on it, of that he was certain.

XXXXXXXX

Not quite sure of where to begin, Bart headed for one of his most 'unfavorite' places in the world – the sheriff's office. They'd been introduced the first day Bart was in town, but there'd been no interaction between the two since then. Yet the sheriff didn't seem surprised to see Bart when he walked into the jail.

"Well, good morning, Mr. Maverick. What can I do for you?"

"Sheriff Talley, I've got some questions I'd like to ask you if you don't mind. And the name's Bart."

"Alright, Bart, I've got some time. What is it you need to know?"

Talley was a pleasant enough fellow, despite Bart's feelings of disdain regarding law enforcement, and they talked about nothing of any consequence for a few minutes before Bart got down to business. "What can you tell me about Max Ludlow?" he finally asked.

The sheriff rubbed his chin. "Ludlow. There's a real strange character. He can be the nicest fella you'd ever wanna meet . . . and then turn on you in a second. First off, nobody in town except Max is upset that he lost the saloon to your brother. His games were rigged and his liquor was watered, and if you were smart, you wouldn't accuse him of either of those. He's killed at least three men that I know of, and Lord knows how many that ain't come to light. Via fair fight, of course."

"Is that why he's still out walkin' around?"

"That's the reason."

"What's he doin' since Bret won the Lucky Seven from him?"

"I'm not entirely sure. He's got some little office on Charlotte Street, and I've been told he goes there every day – but I don't know what he does. He's stayed outta trouble, and that's all that matters to me."

"What happened between him and Ruby Jane Brissette?"

"That was a long time ago."

"Doesn't matter how long ago it was, sheriff. You just told me Ludlow's a killer."

Talley sighed. "He wanted that storefront. I don't know why, maybe for the same thing he's doin' now. Town council owned the property and sold it to the Brissettes. Ludlow was unhappy; he protested and the council ignored him. So he went to Ruby Jane. Maybe he thought he could persuade her, maybe he thought he could intimidate her. All he did was get himself arrested."

"And after that?"

"Tweren't nothin' after that. Ludlow paid a fine and got outta jail. He left her alone. Ain't had no trouble between 'em since then."

"Nothin' at all?"

The sheriff shook his head. "Nope, not that I know of. Ruby Jane's a real private person, keeps to herself. I was surprised when she took up with your brother, him so outgoin' and her so quiet, but they seem to be happy."

Were they? That was the question Bart kept asking himself, over and over.

He got up to leave. "Thanks for the information, sheriff. I appreciate it."

"Mr. Maverick . . . " Bart stopped and turned around. "What is it you're tryin' to find out, if you don't mind my askin'?"

The gambler hesitated before answering. "I'm not really sure, sheriff. It's just . . . just a feelin' I've got. That's all, just a feelin'."

He tipped his hat and left, with every intention of heading to both Ruby Jane's hat shop and Max Ludlow's 'mystery' office. He mounted and rode down the street, but just as he passed Bret's saloon, Cody Jessup came running out.

"Bart, I been lookin' for you. You better come inside, your brother needs you."

"What's wrong?" Bart had a bad feeling and quickly slid off his horse, tying the animal to the hitching rail.

"He's sick, been that way most of the day. Him and Miss Ruby went to breakfast, and when they come back he was almost doubled over in pain. I wanted to get Doc Nance, but he wouldn't let me. Miss Ruby's with him."

The two men hurried inside; Cody went back to the bar and Bart ran upstairs. By the time he got to the top he could hear the unmistakable sounds of Bret retching, and he practically flew down the hall to his brother's bedroom. Bret was on his knees in front of the window, bent over the chamber pot. Ruby Jane stood behind him, rubbing his back and murmuring.

"What happened?" Bart barked out before he could think about the tone of his voice, but the girl didn't seem to notice.

"He got sick on the way back from breakfast, and he's been like this ever since."

"Go get the doctor," Bart instructed Ruby, but Bret reached up and grabbed Bart's arm.

"No," he choked out.

"Go get the doctor, Ruby," Bart urged the girl again. He leaned over Bret and could see the ribbons of red in the chamber pot. Ruby turned and hurried out of the room, and Bart assumed her position of rubbing his brother's back as the retching continued. Slowly the sickness abated, and eventually Bret was able to sit back on his heels. Bart grabbed a towel from the sideboard and wet it, coming back to wipe his brother's mouth. "You done?" he asked as he eyed the contents of the chamber pot, noting the significant amount of blood visible.

"Don't . . . know." Bret remained in the kneeling position for a few minutes, but by the time Ruby and Doctor Nance arrived, it was evident he was finished. Bart helped his brother to his feet and over to the bed, where Bret sat down heavily. His string tie was untied and two or three buttons of his shirt were undone, and his face and chest were full of sweat.

Bart used the towel in his hands to wipe his brother down, and then helped him lie on the bed.

"Again?" Doc Nance inquired, and Bret smiled feebly.

"I guess," was the only answer forthcoming.

"Wait, this has happened before?" Bart practically begged for any answer other than the one he got.

"It's become a bad habit, I'm afraid," the doctor answered.

Bart grabbed Ruby Jane's elbow and pulled her away from the bed. "How many times?" he asked none too gently.

"I . . . I don't know exactly. Several," she whimpered.

"After he eats?"

"Yes."

He looked back to the bed and realized for the first time how thin Bret had become. He hid it well, always wearing a coat or jacket to disguise the weight loss. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed into Ruby's ear, not caring that the girl might be his future sister-in-law.

"I . . . he . . . he didn't want me to," she gulped, on the verge of a sob.

"What else haven't you told me?"

"Bart . . ." Bret called faintly, and Bart reluctantly turned loose of the girl's elbow and hurried to his brother's bedside.

"Don't be mad . . . it's not her fault."

"Isn't it? Alright, then, why didn't you tell me?" He could see from the look on Bret's face just how much pain he was in, but that didn't answer his question. "The blood? Has that been goin' on all along?"

"No," his brother murmured, and closed his eyes. "Just started . . . few days ago. Right before . . . you got here."

"Doctor Nance, can I talk to you, please?" Bart walked away from the bed and the doctor followed him. "How bad is it?"

"It's not good, Mr. Maverick. If we don't find out why he keeps doing this . . . he's losing more blood each time it happens."

"You don't know what's causing it?"

"Not so far."

Bart was afraid he did, but he wasn't going to say anything else right now, in front of Bret and Ruby. "If I come to your office, can we discuss this? I've got some questions I'd like to ask you."

"I can answer them for you now and save you a trip." The doctor seemed most sincere, but Bart shook his head.

"No. Not here, not now. I'll be down later."

"Alright," Nance answered him, and went back to his patient. Bart stayed where he was and watched the tableau in front of him. Bret lying in bed. Ruby Jane sitting on the edge of that bed, holding his brother's hand. The doctor leaning over, looking perplexed and asking Bret quiet questions. Something was terribly, terribly wrong with this picture, and Bart suspected he knew what it was. But so far he had nothing but premonitions, nightmares, and assumptions. How would he ever get proof in time?


	9. Doctor Maverick

Chapter 8 – Doctor Maverick

It was late afternoon before Bart felt he could leave his brother's bedside. Bret had finally fallen asleep, and Bart watched Ruby Jane hover over the gambler as long as he could, knowing he had to see Doc Nance and ask his questions. "I'll be back soon," he told the girl. "You make sure he stays in that bed."

Ruby barely looked up but he heard her murmur, "I will," before he left. He stopped at the bar to tell Cody where he was going and then made his way out the doors and up the street. Doc's office was fairly big, with a front waiting room that was, right now at least, empty. A small bell attached to the door rang when he entered, and within a few seconds Doc was standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Maverick, I've been expecting you. Your brother resting comfortably?"

"I ain't sure how comfortable you can be when you leave half your insides in a chamber pot."

"I suppose that's true. Come in back with me, would you? I was just cleaning the exam room. We can talk while I finish." They walked through two small rooms and finally into a larger one before the doctor resumed his task. "What was it you didn't want to ask in front of your brother?"

"How long has this problem been goin' on, Doc?"

Nance was wiping the exam table down while he spoke. "Several weeks, actually. It was minor at first but it's gotten progressively worse. The blood is a recent development."

"Any other symptoms?"

"The weight loss, obviously. He tries to hide that, of course. And he admits to almost constant headaches, as well as feeling sleepy a lot of the time. And I believe he's had some . . . ahem, some problems of a more personal nature."

"Too much time in the facilities?"

The doctor nodded his head. "That would be it."

"Any idea what could be causing it?"

"To tell you the truth, I can't find anything wrong with him. I was thinking of doing a small amount of bloodletting until he began doing some on his own."

"Some outside cause possible, doctor?"

Nance looked up sharply. "What are you suggesting?"

The gambler answered softly, "Poison."

All activity ceased as the doctor considered what he'd just heard. He rubbed his chin for two or three minutes before finally coming to a conclusion. "It's possible. It's entirely possible. But who would do such a thing? And why? Bret doesn't have an enemy in this entire town."

"Yeah, he does," the gambler reminded the doctor. "Max Ludlow."

"Ludlow . . . hmmm, the man is certainly cold enough to try something like that. But how?"

Bart hesitated before answering the doctor's question. "It would have to come from someone . . . close to Bret."

There was alarm in the doctor's voice. "Are you trying to tell me . . . "

"I'm not tryin' to tell you anything, Doctor Nance. I'm simply . . . statin' a fact."

Nance dropped the towel in his hands and sat down abruptly in the nearest chair. "Yes. Yes, you're right, of course. But if that's true . . . you need some sort of proof. And I assume you have none?"

"You assume correctly, Doc. What do I have to look out for? How would it be . . . delivered . . . ?" Bart finally felt like he was getting somewhere, and he didn't want to stop until all his questions were answered – at least all the questions he had for the doctor.

"In food, I would think."

Food . . . _'Mr. Bret met her in the Casper General Store one afternoon. Before you know it they was goin' to lunch and dinner . . .'_ Verena's words rang in Bart's ears. Could it be that simple?

XXXXXXXX

"How are you feeling, sweetheart? Any better?"

Bret had finally opened his eyes almost two hours later and the first thing he saw was Ruby Jane's lovely face, worry lines etched across her forehead. His whole body hurt from the morning's violent retching but the feel of her soft hand on his cheek made him appreciate her presence.

"A little. Where's . . . Brother Bart?"

"Out. He didn't say. Can I get you anything? Some water?"

Bret's eyes flickered shut, then open again. "Water . . . would be good."

Ruby disappeared from his view for several minutes, then reappeared with a glass of water. "Let me help you," she implored, and slipped her arm under his shoulders to help raise his head off the pillow. Bret drank almost greedily; water had never tasted so good.

She set the empty glass on the floor next to the bed and used a clean towel to wipe off his face and neck. "Anything else?" He grimaced, and she suspected that one of the headaches that constantly plagued him had made itself known. "Let me rub your temples – maybe that will help."

And that's how Bart found them when he returned some few minutes later; Bret in a different kind of pain and Ruby Jane trying to rub Bret's headache away. His eyes were closed and Bart didn't know if he was still asleep or not, so he spoke quietly. "How's he doin'?"

"Better than . . . before," came the unexpected but welcome answer. "Where'd you go?"

"Had somethin' to take care of. You got a headache again?"

"Yeah." Several seconds went by before Bret realized what Bart had asked him. "Again? I didn't say anything about headaches."

"Oh, really? Guess it must have been Doc, then. How's your stomach?"

"Sore."

"Inside and out?"

"Yeah."

Ruby Jane stood up and moved away from the bed so that Bart could sit down. He nodded in acknowledgement and sat carefully. Bret's eyes opened but they were cloudy and unfocused, and he quickly closed them again. "You are here."

Bart chuckled softly. There was the Brother Bret that he knew and loved. "Where else would I be?"

"Thought maybe . . . you left again."

A shake of the head. "Nope. Not leavin' you. Not till I find out what's goin' on."

The two people listening to Bart took what he said very differently. Bret smiled slightly. He knew if anybody could get to the bottom of just what was causing him so much pain, his brother could.

Ruby Jane never changed expressions, but she wondered if anybody could get to the bottom of just what was causing Bret so much pain, including his brother.


	10. Life Goes On

Chapter 9 – Life Goes On

Business was slow that night and Cody stayed downstairs with Gaither to keep an eye on things. Ruby Jane was eventually persuaded to go home by Bret, and Bart kept watch over his brother. By midnight the saloon was closed and both Maverick brothers were asleep upstairs, one in bed and the other in two chairs pulled together to construct a place to rest while standing guard. Bart woke two or three times, but each time he drifted off after determining his brother slept soundly.

 _It was almost winter; the snow had been coming down for some time now. He had the same excruciating pain in his belly that had plagued his brother before . . . well, before he'd taken Bret back to the little graveyard under the Desert Willow Tree in Texas. He'd suspected poison then, as he suspected it now, but could find no evidence to support his conclusion. Meanwhile, he got sicker and sicker, realizing that soon the Maverick brothers would be just a memory in Casper, Wyoming._

 _Ruby Jane would be by shortly, to see if he was feeling any better today, and he'd lie and tell her yes, there was some improvement . . . knowing that she would watch him die, just as she'd watched Bret die the same way. And there seemed to be nothing that he could do to stop it . . ._

He woke slowly, quietly, not like he usually did from one of those dreams. It was barely daylight outside and he glanced over at his brother, still sleeping soundly in the bed next to him. The nightmare had been peaceful, not disturbing the way they usually were, and it caused him to wonder what his premonitions were trying to tell him. Something different, he suspected, something that made him think he'd taken the wrong path and the darkness was doing everything it could to head him in a different direction. But where had he gone wrong?

He slipped quietly out of the chair he 'lay' in and down the hallway to the staircase. In just a few minutes he had a pot of coffee brewing; and once it was finished the two of them would go back to his brother's bedside. His mind was still foggy from the night's sleep but something from the dream kept coming back to him and playing over and over in his head. _Wrong path . . . wrong path . . . wrong path . . ._ but which path was the right one?

He carried two cups of coffee upstairs in case Bret was awake, and saw that he'd guessed correctly as he entered the bedroom. "Mornin', sleepyhead. How you feelin' this mornin'?"

"Better," came the reply. "Is one of those for me?"

"If you want it. Get enough sleep?" Bret had managed to sit up in bed and Bart handed him a cup, then sat in one of the chairs he'd slept in last night.

There was a yawn from the man in the bed, but he nodded anyway. "I think so. How was your talk with Nance yesterday?"

Bart hadn't said a word about seeing or talking with Doctor Nance, but the fact that Bret knew where he'd been didn't surprise him. When it came to discovering the root of a problem, they thought pretty much alike. "Fine, just fine. Anything you'd like to know about you?"

"Plenty. Doc's got no idea what's goin' on, does he?"

' _No . . . but I do,'_ thought the younger brother. "He's got an idea or two."

"Like what?" Bret could be relentless when he had a bone in his mouth, and that's just what he had right now.

"Can't tell ya. Professional courtesy," Bart laughed, trying to throw his brother off-track.

From out of nowhere came the next question. "I'm dyin', ain't I?"

There was an instant response. "No."

"You always were a lousy liar."

Bart was entirely serious when he answered. "You're not dying, Bret. The word was never spoken in the discussion I had with Doctor Nance."

"You sure?" There was disbelief and resignation in the tone of voice used to ask the question, but at the same time, hope that Bart was telling him the truth.

"I'm sure."

Bart wondered just how long the question had been in Bret's head before he finally asked it. Maybe that's why he'd seemed so content to just stay in Casper and live his life for whatever time he had left, the way he'd always expected to when he was older and done with drifting.

"Now, how about gettin' you up and outta that bed? I would imagine your stomach's feelin' mighty empty after yesterday. Is there a kitchen in this place? I can cook you some eggs, just the way you like 'em. At least I still know how to do that."

Bret smiled, remembering when they were young – Bart had been so proud when he'd learned how to cook breakfast and finally had something to get out of bed for every morning besides school. "Only if you'll make me some bacon, too. There's a stove in the back room downstairs. Cody uses it sometimes."

The smile on his brother's face brought one to Bart's, as well. It was a stroke of genius on Pappy's part, teaching Bart how to make everything all three of the Maverick men loved for the first meal of the day, and then putting him in charge of getting it on the table every morning. Especially as a growing young man, the idea of heading off to school with nothing but a growling, empty belly was enough to motivate even the most sleep-loving boy into waking up. And by cooking for his brother now, he could all but eliminate the possibility of disguising anything in the food that didn't belong there.

"You alright gettin' up and dressed by yourself?"

"I think I can manage that, son."

Bart grinned and picked up the empty coffee cups. "Breakfast comin' right up, Pappy."

XXXXXXXX

"You have any more nightmares?" Bret asked as he finished the last bite of food. Bart had surprised him; it was half a lifetime ago since his brother cooked breakfast for them, but it tasted exactly the way he remembered it.

"No," Bart answered quickly, too quickly, and Bret understood that whatever the latest one involved, his brother had no intention of talking about it. It made him wonder just what was going on in the head that lay behind those chestnut eyes.

' _I answered too fast,_ ' the younger brother thought, knowing that Bret would pick up on the speed with which he gave his reply. "Not any that make sense," he clarified, hoping to stave off any more questions.

"You worry too much."

A nod and a smile. "I know I do. But somebody has to worry for both of us, don't they?"

"Depends on what you're worryin' about."

"Right now, who's gonna clean up the mess I made."

"The one in the back room or the one you don't wanna talk about?"

' _Time to change the subject before he asks me somethin' I have to lie about,'_ Bart thought. "How's your stomach feelin' now?"

"Like it used to feel when we were kids. Full and happy. You got someplace to be today?"

The younger brother nodded. "Two places, as a matter of fact. But they can wait until later. You need me to do somethin' for you?"

"Yeah, if you would, but not right now. We got a new bartender comin' in tonight to learn the ropes. I can't ask Cody to stay over – he's always here. And I need Gaither on the bar. Can you show him around and get him started? His name's Frank. Frank McCloud."

"Sure, no problem. What time?" Bart's 'places to be' wouldn't take all day.

"After supper – around six o'clock."

"You gonna be here or you goin' to dinner with Ruby Jane tonight?" He tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but he didn't know if he was successful or not. In light of yesterday and his premonitions, he'd just as soon Bret wouldn't spend a meal with the girl . . . at least tonight. He was inwardly pleased when he heard his brother's answer.

"No, I don't feel up to runnin' off to God knows where. Maybe we can get some food from the café before Frank gets here – or after, if he catches on quick. Alright by you?"

Bart breathed a sigh of relief. At least Bret wouldn't know he was going to see Ruby Jane – today. Depending on what he learned from the girl, he'd deal with his brother's wrath tomorrow. "Whatever works for you works for me. As long as it ain't a repeat of yesterday's performance."

Bret shook his head slightly. "I sure hope not."

"That makes two of us, Brother Bret. That was somethin' neither one of us wants repeated."


	11. Making the Rounds

Chapter 10 – Making the Rounds

There was paperwork to do at the saloon, and Bret was able to handle it without too much effort. At least he could remain in one spot to get it done, and Bart felt 'safe' leaving him with only Cody there in case of another attack. Besides, he had no intention of being gone all day.

Ruby Jane's hat shop was small but attractive – if you were a lady looking for a new hat. She had a corner of the shop window filled with men's hats – and if Bret was suggesting the designs to her, he was doing a first-rate job. There were several that Bart really liked.

Another of those little bells on the door greeted him when he entered, but Ruby was already with a customer. Bart looked around the shop, paying close attention to the men's section, until the woman made her purchase and they were alone. "Good morning, Ruby Jane." Bart did his best to sound cheerful and not intimidating.

"Is Bret alright?" were the first words out of the girl's mouth.

"He was sittin' in his office playin' boss-man when I left him. I even cooked breakfast for him this mornin', like we was kids again. He felt a lot better than yesterday."

"Thank God," Ruby Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "I was so scared yesterday . . . "

"What did Bret eat for breakfast?"

"Bacon, eggs, half of my toast, and . . . that's all, I think."

"Coffee?"

Ruby nodded. "One cup."

"Really? Just one?" Bart found that hard to believe.

"Just one. He probably had several at the saloon before I got there."

"Why did you go to the saloon? Why didn't he pick you up?"

"That's what we do; I meet him at the saloon. He's usually up so much earlier than I am, so I get dressed and meet him there."

"Bret's up early? How early?"

Ruby Jane looked at Bart quizzically. "What difference does it make?"

"Because after he finished school he never got up early. When does he get up?"

"Right after sunrise, he told me. He's always dressed and ready to go when I get there."

Bret up at sunrise? If he was staying up until the saloon closed, then getting up at dawn, he was only sleeping an hour or two each night. No man, especially a Maverick, could get by very long on that little sleep.

"Do you eat breakfast at the same place all the time?"

"Usually. We got to the Casper Café, it's just down the street."

Bart now had a third place to go before returning to The Watering Hole. "Who owns the café?"

"Owns it? Betty Jo . . . Betty Jo Dunway. She has since I've been in Casper."

"Any connection between her and Max Ludlow?"

Ruby Jane stared at him, startled. "Betty Jo and . . . not a good one."

"What kind, then?"

"It happened before I came to town . . . Harry Dunway was killed in a gunfight with Ludlow. Said he was being cheated at the saloon and wouldn't wait for the sheriff. He drew on Max – and you can guess the rest."

Plenty of reason for Betty Jo to want Ludlow dead – but not a reason in the world to poison his brother.

"And who owns Chateau Elazar?"

"Henri LeClaire. He's one of Bret's best customers."

"Ruby, there's something else I need to know, and you'll probably think it's none of my business. Do you love my brother?"

Ruby Jane turned a bright shade of red as she picked up a bonnet and retied the ribbon on it. "I just . . . I just like him an awful lot."

"But you don't love him?"

"I . . . I . . . I . . . think I do."

Not the answer Bart was expecting, but it sounded like an honest one. The thought occurred to him that his suspicions of Ruby Jane just might be misplaced . . . but if she wasn't responsible for Bret's state of health, who was?

"Ruby . . ." Bart took the girl's hand and held it in his. "He's gonna be alright."

There were tears in her eyes as she asked him, "You promise?"

"I promise." He squeezed her hand and let go of it. "Thanks for your help."

Sheriff Talley was correct, Max Ludlow had 'some little office' on Charlotte Street. The only signage on the door read _'Max Ludlow, Proprietor.'_ Bart opened the door cautiously, not sure of what to expect, and found a pretty little redhead sitting at a desk right inside.

"Can I help you, sir?" She smiled at Bart and batted her eyes, flirting shamelessly with the handsome young man that stood before her, but Maverick remained oblivious.

"Bart Maverick to see Max Ludlow."

The girl looked suddenly startled and rose quickly from her chair. "Wait there please, Mr. Maverick. I'll see if he's available."

She hurried to the only door in the room and knocked softly, then opened it and disappeared inside. It was a minute or two before she reappeared, waving him towards the office. "He can see you now, Mr. Maverick."

The room was tasteful but plain. A desk with two chairs in front of it, a bookshelf, and a table that held two or three liquor bottles and some glasses. Nothing frivolous or unnecessary. Whatever Ludlow was involved in, it wasn't complicated. Bart made no attempt to be civil and shake hands, he simply sat in one of the chairs and waited for the man to acknowledge his presence.

The first time he'd seen Ludlow he recognized him. He just couldn't identify who it was until it finally came to him – the stranger at the head of the bar in the nightmare with Ruby Jane. The one who wanted help carrying Bret's body outside. Still the most likely suspect in his brother's attempted murder.

When Ludlow finally looked up his face was almost expressionless, save for a slight smirk where his mouth was supposed to be. "Who are . . . oh yeah, you were with him the other night. You must be the brother."

The pale blue eyes were disconcerting, but Bart ignored the feeling they gave him. "Bart."

"Whatta you want?"

"I want to know why you're tryin' to kill him."

"Why I . . . well, that's rich. Why I'm tryin' to kill him? Brother man, if I was tryin' to kill him it would already be done. He took most everything I had and I intend to get it back. I can't do that if he's dead."

Ludlow had a point. With Bret gone the saloon would most likely be his, and that wouldn't do the ex-saloon owner any good at all. "You ain't made a play yet."

Max snorted. "I got other things to do, sonny boy. I'll get around to it. Or do I have to take care of you first?"

Bart pulled his coat open. He wasn't wearing a gun belt. "I ain't heeled."

"Too bad." Ludlow cast his eyes back down at the paper he had in his hands and sat that way for a minute or more before looking back up. "What do you want? I'm busy."

"I want you to stay away from Bret Maverick."

That elicited a laugh, followed by a serious expression. "Alright, brother man, I will. Until I'm ready. Then ain't you or nobody else gonna get in my way. I'll get the Lucky Seven back, or die tryin'. Now get outta here, and if you ever come back make sure you're heeled."

Bart got up and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him. When he got here he was sure that Ludlow was behind the attempted poisonings, but everything he'd seen and heard served to convince him he was wrong. The man was a snake, of that he was certain, but he didn't appear to be the snake Bart was looking for.

One more stop before he returned to The Watering Hole. Casper Café and Betty Jo Dunway.


	12. Time for the Truth

Chapter 11 – Time for the Truth

Betty Jo Dunway was not what Bart expected. Short and stout, she reminded him of someone's grandmother. She looked confused when he introduced himself until he reminded her that The Watering Hole was almost right across the street.

"I'm sorry, son, my memory ain't what it used to be. Now that you mention it, I reckon I know who Bret and Ruby are. Come in here a lot for breakfast. Don't know what happened yesterday – they left with him feelin' poorly. How is he today?"

"He's better. At least he was when I saw him last. Tell me, Betty Jo, does Max Ludlow ever come in?"

Betty Jo's eyes darkened, and an angry frown spread across her face. "He better not. If he ever did, I'd go straight for my shotgun. May the man rot in hell."

She said the words with such vehemence that Bart had no doubt she meant every syllable. He couldn't blame her, after all. He asked softly, "How long ago did it happen, Betty Jo?"

Her voice had lost none of its bite, but the frown had deserted her face. "Almost five years."

"And Ludlow owned the saloon the whole time?"

"He did, the varmint. I remember now, I was so happy when your brother won the place. I never had to watch that snake go in or out of those doors again. Why you askin' about him? Bret ain't sellin' the place back to him, is he?"

"No, no, sorry, Betty Jo. I'm just lookin' for information. Sorry to take up your time."

As Bart walked out of the café, his mind was working overtime. He'd drawn a blank all day long and he didn't understand it. He was missing something and he knew it, but just what it was escaped him. He crossed the street and walked into the saloon, surprised to find Bret sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and a glass of water. "Turned into a two-fisted drinker?" Bart asked.

"Naw, just thirsty," came the answer. "You get everything done you needed to?"

"Yes and no," Bart replied, not trying to be evasive.

"In other words, you saw everybody you intended to see, but you didn't get any answers."

The younger brother tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "You know me too well."

Bret returned a chuckle. "I should after all these years. What is it you're tryin' to find out? You might as well tell me, you know I'll figure it out eventually."

That was the thought that had been dancing around in Bart's head all day. But it also meant he would have to explain the last two nightmares he'd had. And it was almost six o'clock; time for the new bartender to appear. Just as someone walked through the batwing doors, Bart made his decision.

"There's a lot I need to explain. But I can't do it now. Later tonight?"

"Fine by me." Bret yawned just then. "Sorry. I gotta go lie down. You good with all this?"

"Right as rain, Brother Bret. I'll see you later."

XXXXXXXX

Bret made a wise decision when he hired Frank McCloud; besides being bright and catching on to everything after he saw or heard it the first time, he was quick. He had an outgoing personality and kept the cowboys at the bar happy. It was almost nine o'clock before they'd gone over everything, but Bart was pleased with the way the new bartender handled himself.

Once he felt confident in leaving Frank and Gaither alone, Bart went upstairs to find his brother and see if Bret felt like going across the street to the café. He wasn't in the office or his bedroom; Bart found him sitting out on the back staircase landing looking at the stars.

"What are you doin' out here?"

"Just wonderin' how I got here and where I'm goin' next."

Bart smiled inwardly at the remark. "That's good. At least you're thinkin' about the future."

Bret shook his head. "Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know if there is a future anymore, Bart."

Bart reached down and pulled his brother to his feet. "Sure there's a future. Let's go get somethin' to eat and I'll tell you all about it."

A few minutes later they were seated at the very back table in the café. Both ordered the dinner special and coffee, and as soon as their cups were filled, Bart cleared his throat.

"You're not sick, Bret. That's why Doc Nance can't find out what's causin' you all the trouble."

"Don't tell my insides that."

Bart shook his head. "You're not sick – you're bein' poisoned."

"What?"

"You're bein' poisoned."

Bret's coffee cup was set back down abruptly, but he asked the question like you'd ask somebody _'how many cards.'_ Reasonable, casual. No trace of fear or panic or even skepticism in his voice. "What makes you think that?"

Bart took his time and explained everything to Bret that he and the doctor had discussed, including Nance's conclusion that he couldn't find anything physically wrong with the older brother. No reason at all seemed to exist for the violent stomach spasms that appeared from nowhere. He didn't disclose their conclusion that somebody close to Bret was slipping the poison into his food; that was a point he was no longer sure of. And sometime during the day he'd decided that whoever might be responsible, Ruby Jane wasn't.

He told Bret about the last nightmare he'd had; where he was suffering the same symptoms as his brother, and knew that the assassin had turned their attentions to him. Bret stopped him and asked, "Was I already dead?"

Bart closed his eyes and hung his head; he'd hoped that his brother wouldn't catch on to that fact. "Yes," he whispered softly, followed by, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Bart. There's nothin' for you to be ashamed of. It was a dream; it hasn't happened." Bret waited while their supper was delivered and then started again. "You talked to Betty Jo today? How is she?"

"Forgetful. When I reminded her, she remembered everybody. Especially Ludlow. She was ecstatic when you won the place away from him. But I'm just about at a dead end, Bret. I can't figure out where the poison's comin' from."

"Maybe you're wrong. Maybe there's somethin' goin' on inside me that Doc don't know about." Bret looked almost resigned to what he'd come to consider his 'fate.'

"No, I'm not wrong. That's what the last premonition meant – that whatever got you was after me too, and it weren't no sickness. Don't you see, it's up to me to figure this out and find whoever's doin' this? I have to . . . I just have to!"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both brothers doing nothing more than picking at their food. Bart was at a loss as to where to turn next; Bret was having a difficult time believing anything that was happening to him. And having trouble digesting Bart's dreams. "You sure that's all there was?" Bret finally asked. "Seems like there's a piece missing."

Bart finally pushed away what was left of his supper. He hadn't wanted to explain the dream with Ruby Jane and Ludlow; how do you tell your brother that in it he was dead on the floor? But if that's what would convince Bret that Bart was now headed down the right path, he'd do just that. Against his better judgment he began:

 _He was on the boardwalk, in front of the saloon; the lights were off and the building was locked up. It was almost sunrise and he could hear someone inside, moaning as if they were in extreme pain. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then stumbled inside in the dark._

 _The noise was coming from behind the bar, and he rushed towards the sound. Just as he rounded the end of the bar he could see black boots and black striped pants, the same ones Bret owned. The remainder of the man was obscured by the girl kneeling on the floor next to him. "I'm sorry, honey," she sobbed, "I'm so sorry."_

 _The moans continued for another minute or so, finally fading into nothingness. The girl stood up as Ludlow appeared at the head of the bar. "Is it over?" he asked._

" _Yes," she answered, and Bart's eyes went to the body on the floor._

" _Help me move him," Ludlow ordered, and Ruby Jane bent down to do so. Bart reached out a hand to stop her, but he couldn't. Everything faded into oblivion._

Bret's lips were pressed into a hard line, and his eyes were as black as could be. He said nothing, just sat and stared at his brother. No wonder Bart hadn't wanted to tell him. It was almost five minutes before he finally spoke. "Do you believe it?"

Bart shook his head slowly. "Not anymore. I think it pointed me in the right direction, but not at the right people. Ruby Jane cares about you. I didn't know that before."

The older brother slowly exhaled. "I ain't sure I believe any of it."


	13. Walkaway Joe

Chapter 12 – Walkaway Joe

"You have to believe it. It's the truth." There was something in Bart's voice that his brother didn't hear very often – desperation.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Bart. I just know I got a pain in my belly that's tryin' to kill me, and I got a brother that keeps havin' scary nightmares."

"Listen to me, Bret. I know it sounds crazy, but it's not. Everything fits, I'm just missin' somethin' – somethin' that's right in front of me, and I don't see it yet. That's why I told you all about it – even the nightmares. So you'd know it was real. You ain't dyin'."

Bret Maverick looked down at the two plates full of food, both of them barely touched. He'd put almost nothing in his stomach today, yet a dull ache had begun in it earlier in the evening. Bart had tried to be thorough. He'd talked to almost everyone who might possibly have any information that could be put to use, but he was exactly where he'd started – nowhere. If what he was telling Bret was the truth, then they were both missing something – and it could end up killing them.

"What if you're right? What if somebody is tryin' to poison me? Who's doin' it? And how are they doin' it? Ain't nobody left for you to talk to."

Bart shook his head. "Then I'll start over again. I'll go back and talk to 'em all. Hell, I'll talk to everybody in town. I'll do whatever I have to. I WON'T LET YOU DIE."

The older brother reached out a hand and laid it on the younger brother's arm. "I know you won't. Let's go back to the saloon. We can talk over there."

A nod of the head, then Bart got to his feet and put money on the table. "Come on, Pappy, let's go figure out what's goin' on."

XXXXXXXX

The Watering Hole closed its doors at four o'clock, and by that time Bret had already begun to feel the same intense nausea that he'd suffered from two days ago. He looked across the table where he and Bart had been sitting for the past several hours, and his brother knew there was something wrong. Even Bart had begun to feel slightly ill, and neither had eaten anything save for the small amount of dinner they'd attempted hours before.

Bret stood shakily and ran for the back door, making it outside just in time. His body trembled violently as it attempted to expel whatever was terrorizing his insides, but his stomach yielded nothing but bile from the coffee he'd been drinking all night. He hadn't meant for his brother to follow him outside but Bart did, gripping him tightly by the shoulders and holding him almost upright. With no food in him the tremors lasted but a few minutes, and Bart guided him safely back inside and upstairs.

Thirty minutes later Bret was asleep, once again exhausted by the punishment his already weakened body was absorbing. Bart felt somewhat shaky himself, but made a bed at his brother's side from the two chairs he'd slept in last and soon fell asleep . . .

 _The saloon was closed, locked up tight, and the Mavericks sat inside in the dark. "You sure you're alright with this?" Bart asked, and Bret nodded._

" _Yep, Cody will do right well keepin' this place on the straight and narrow. The towns gotta have one honest saloon, and he's just the man to run the place."_

" _What about the girl?"_

" _Ruby Jane will be fine. She's a sweet soul, but we both agreed it was time for me to move on."_

" _And Ludlow?" Bart almost made a face when he said the name._

 _Bret shrugged. "He'll get his someday. But it ain't gonna be from either one of us."_

 _Bart got up and crossed the saloon. "Been here so long it seems funny to be leavin'. I thought you were here permanent."_

 _His brother followed him as they both stood at the mahogany bar for one last time. "I almost was. If it hadn't been for you . . . " He turned towards Bart and wrapped him in an embrace. He was still much too thin, especially for Bret Maverick, but he'd put the weight back on. If it hadn't been for little brother saving him one more time . . . he shuddered at the thought of how close death had been to both of them, but especially him . . . and how bizarre it all was. And unnecessary._

 _Thank God for Bart and his premonitions, Bret almost said out loud. He wondered if his brother knew just how important he was in Bret's life, and how much Bart meant to him. He abandoned the embrace but kept one arm around Bart's shoulders. "Let's go home and spend a while with Pappy."_

 _Bart nodded and smiled. It seemed like the right thing to do. Now that he'd finally solved the puzzle of the poisoning . . ._

Bart woke with a start; he'd almost fallen out of the chairs he was laying across. He'd been so close to the answer he was looking for, but it had slipped right through his fingers as he started to slide out of the chairs. He righted himself and then decided to get up; he had no idea how long he'd been asleep at his brother's side but desperately needed a bed of his own. Bret was snoring – that was a good sign.

He made his way down the hall and practically crashed into bed. Maybe if he went right back to sleep, he'd remember what it was he was missing . . . how someone was getting poison into Bret's food . . . and who was responsible. If nothing else, he'd get some well-deserved rest, and maybe his head would be clear when he woke.

The next thing he heard was someone knocking on his door. "Bart, are you awake?" The voice belonged to Cody, and Bart got out of bed and crossed the room.

"Whatta you need, Cody?" he asked as he pulled the door open.

"I went to see if Bret was awake. He's gone, Bart."

"What? What time is it? He was snoring when I left him." Bart rubbed his eyes and looked out the window across the hall. It appeared to be early afternoon.

"Almost one o'clock. I never saw him leave; he must have gone out the back way. Why would he do that after last night?"

"You talk to Gaither?" That was the only way Cody could have known about Bret getting sick again.

"Gaither came by a while ago. Wanted to see if Bret was any better. That's when we found out he was missing."

Bart nodded. "Alright. I'll get dressed. You got any coffee down there?"

"Just put on a fresh pot."

"Gaither still here?" Bart asked.

"Behind the bar."

"Can one of you go down to the livery and get my horse? I'd be much obliged."

"I will. I'll see if Bret's horse is gone, too."

"Thanks, Cody." The bartender left, and Bart closed the door. What in the world had gotten into Bret? And where would he go?

By the time Cody got back Bart was shaved, dressed and downstairs drinking coffee. He thought about food but his stomach was still a little tender and he didn't want to end up like his brother. "Bret's horse?"

"Still at the livery. I didn't bring yours back, either. If he went someplace close enough to walk . . . "

Bart nodded. "Good thinking. I've got an idea." He took another swallow of coffee and made a face. "I thought you said this was a fresh pot?"

"It is, I swear. Not more than an hour old."

"Tastes . . . different." Bart set the cup down. "I'll be back when I find him," and hurried out the batwing doors.

Bart was playing a hunch, but he guessed correctly. Up the street he went, to Doctor Nance's office, and listened to the little bell on the door ring when he walked in. It took a minute or two for the doctor to appear, and he didn't look at all surprised to see Bart. "Come on in the back. Your brother's already here."

Bart followed the doctor into the last room, where Bret was seated. "Run away from home, did we?" he asked his older brother.

Bret grinned sheepishly. "Thought you were still asleep."

"You snuck off to check with Doc for yourself?"

"I . . . I had some questions of my own. And I wanted to talk to him about yesterday."

Bart looked slightly confused. "What about yesterday?"

"You saw what I ate yesterday. Almost no food, but I got sick anyway. I wanted to talk to Doc about it."

Both brothers turned to Doctor Nance. "Any ideas?" Bret asked.

"Several," the doctor replied. "But only one that I think might apply in this case."

"Which is?" the brothers asked in unison.

"It's not in the food."


	14. Needle in a Haystack

Chapter 13 – Needle in a Haystack

"Then where is it?" Bret asked. "If it's not in the food, is it in the water?"

Bart practically jumped out of his seat. "The coffee. That's it, Bret, the coffee. And you're not the only one drinkin' it."

"You're bein' poisoned, too?"

"I noticed somethin' last night. My stomach was tender, like I'd eaten somethin' I shouldn't."

"That's how mine started," Bret told him. "Did you have any coffee this morning?"

"I tried," Bart replied. "I told Cody it tasted funny."

"Does anybody else at the saloon drink coffee?" the doctor asked.

"Rarely. Cody and Gaither don't, but every once in a while somebody else will have a cup. Nobody's ever complained," Bret stated.

"They don't drink enough to notice. It ever taste bad to you?"

Bret shook his head. "No. But how's it bein' poisoned?"

Nance offered a question instead. "Where does your coffee come from?"

Bret looked at Bart before he answered. "I don't know. Cody's in charge of buyin' the supplies."

"Cody Jessup?"

Bret shook his head. "Not possible. Cody would never . . . "

"No, he wouldn't. I agree." That much Bart was sure of.

The doctor advanced a possible explanation. "Either it's being poisoned when you buy it, or somebody's adding it when it gets to the saloon."

"But why?"

That was the conundrum that hung in the air, and nobody could offer an answer. Finally, Bret asked the most important question of the morning. "What'll it take to get the poison out of our systems?"

"Stop drinking it, and it will dissipate slowly. Within a few weeks you should be back to normal."

"And if we're not bein' poisoned?"

Doctor Nance didn't look pleased, but he answered Bret honestly. "Then you've got something I've never seen before, and I don't know what to do."

Bart turned to his brother. "Back to the saloon, Brother Bret?"

"Back to the saloon, Brother Bart."

They talked about it on the way to The Watering Hole. "Somebody's messin' with the coffee before you buy it. Nobody's ever behind that bar makin' a pot but Cody and Gaither."

"And it ain't either one of them," Bret stated without any hesitation.

"No, it can't be," Bart agreed. "You really don't know where it's comin' from?"

Bret shook his head. "Nope. When I first won the place I was doin' all the ordering, but I turned that over to Cody three months ago when I made him saloon manager. He orders the supplies, I look over the orders and then I pay 'em. Everything works real smooth."

"Or it did."

"Gotta be comin' from the General Store."

"But why would anybody there . . . " Bart didn't finish his sentence; they walked into the saloon.

"You found him," Cody declared with a smile.

"I did. He hadn't wandered too far."

Bret looked around. "Gaither still here?"

"Naw, I sent him home. Told him I'd be fine by myself."

Casually, Bart questioned the bartender. "You make a new pot of coffee?"

"Sure did," Cody answered. "I tried some to see if this pot was okay, and it tastes fine to me."

"Let's see." Bart poured himself a cup and took a sip. "Yeah, this pot is good. Was that the end of a bag?"

"It sure was. Can coffee go bad?"

"I don't see how, but that's what it tasted like. Where we buyin' coffee these days, anyway?"

"Most of it comes from the General Store, but sometimes I run short and buy a bag from the café."

"From Casper Café?"

"Well, sure," Cody answered. "Betty Jo gives us the same price as the store. Is that the wrong thing to do?"

"No, no, Cody, that's fine. I was just curious. And that bag you just finished, was that from the store or the café?"

"I ain't sure, boss. They look the same to me. Want me to go check?"

Bret nodded. "Would you?"

"Sure." Jessup made his way from behind the bar to the storeroom. He was gone less than five minutes but came back looking puzzled, with an empty bag in his hand, and gave it to Bret. "This is it, boss, but I sure don't know where we got it."

Bret examined the bag carefully. "Looks like the coffee they sell at the store."

Cody shrugged. "You gonna go talk to 'em about it?"

"Not much they can do." Bart was right about that.

"Won't do any harm," Bret countered.

Bart was skeptical but agreed. "Let's go."

The brothers left the saloon and walked down the street to the General Store. Clint Stevens, the store owner, was behind the counter. "Hey, Bret, haven't seen you in a while. How's business at the saloon?"

Bret smiled and shook hands with Clint, then introduced Bart. "My younger brother, as he is so fond of pointing out," he finished.

"Good to meet you, younger brother. Don't feel bad, I've got one of those, too. What can I do for the Maverick boys today?"

Bret handed Clint the bag. "Did this come from your store?"

It didn't take Clint long to answer. "Looks like it. Somethin' wrong?"

"Can coffee go bad, Clint?" Bart asked.

The owner shook his head. "Not that I know of. What's goin' on, Bret?" As soon as he asked the question, Clint stuck his nose in the bag and sniffed. "Smells fine. Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Bret hesitated; Bart didn't. "Somebody's been poisoning Bret, and we think it's in the coffee."

Clint looked like somebody had hit him. "Poisoning? In the coffee? Why? Who? Not me, that's for sure!"

Bret shot Bart a look that said volumes before turning to Clint. "You change suppliers recently?"

"No." Accompanied by a shake of the head. "Buyin' the same products from the same people for the last two years. I wish I could help you, Bret, but I don't know what else to tell you."

"Does Betty Jo buy her coffee from you or your supplier?" Bret asked in desperation. So far this was a dead end.

"Sometimes from me, sometimes not. Surely you can't suspect Betty Jo? She hated Ludlow, and was only too happy when you won the saloon away from him."

"Just checkin', Clint. Betty Jo wouldn't hurt a fly unless its name was Max Ludlow. Do me a favor, and keep this to yourself, would ya? It's the only chance I got of findin' out where this stuff is comin' from."

"Sure, Bret, sure. Wish I could do somethin' else to help. Good to meet you, Bart. Take care of him, would ya? We kinda like him, and we'd like to keep him."

Bart nodded. "Yeah, it'd be too hard, breakin' in another brother. I'm kinda fond of this one." He tipped his hat and headed for the door, Bret right behind him. When they got outside he asked, "What now?"

"What else? Let's go see Betty Jo."


	15. Most Agreeable

Chapter 14 – Most Agreeable

The café was busy, especially for this time of the day, and Betty Jo was in the kitchen cooking. The brothers both ordered coffee, assuming that whatever they got at the café wouldn't be tainted, and one breakfast to split between them. It was about all the food either one could handle right now.

When business began to settle down and Betty Jo was no longer needed in back, she came out to see the Maverick brothers, and answer whatever questions they had. "Does Cody buy coffee from you sometimes when the saloon runs low?" Bret asked her.

"Why sure, honey, I'm a lot closer and it's a sight easier for him to do that, rather than havin' to run all the way to Clint's place to get some. And I've always got plenty here."

"Betty Jo, do you get your coffee from Clint or from his supplier?" Bart asked next.

"Both. I got a regular supply comin' in from the same outfit Clint uses, but if the supplier runs short or I need extra, I get it from Clint. What difference does it make?"

"We've had some, ah, trouble with the coffee over at the saloon, and we're just tryin' to track down where it's comin' from," Bret explained.

"What kind of trouble?" Betty Jo's curiosity was aroused, and she didn't want to let it go.

"I can't say right now, Betty Jo, but I'll fill you in on everything when we get it cleared up. Fair enough?"

Betty Jo Dunway smiled. Once again she was reminded what a pleasure it was to deal with Bret Maverick rather than that snake in the grass that had killed her Harry, Max Ludlow. "Sure, Bret, whatever you need to do is fine by me."

The brothers looked at each other. They were no further along now than they had been when Bart realized his brother was being poisoned by the coffee that they both consumed so frequently. He needed time to think about all this and what it could possibly mean. Bret provided the perfect save. "I got somethin' at the saloon I gotta take care of, Betty Jo. We'll see you later."

Bret paid for breakfast and the two Mavericks crossed the street, back to the saloon. "That got us nowhere," Bret stated unnecessarily.

Bart was more optimistic. "I'm not so certain. Somethin's botherin' me, and I just ain't quite sure what it is."

"Maybe you need another premonition," his brother suggested as they went through the batwing doors. "Cody, get rid of all the coffee we've got in the storeroom. Go see if Henri LeClaire up at Chateau Elazar has got an extra bag of that stuff he serves, and if he does, buy it from him. I'll tend bar until you get back."

"What if Henri doesn't have any to spare?" Bart asked.

"Then I guess we'll learn to drink water," his brother answered.

Cody nodded and headed for the back room. A few minutes later, after disposing of all the coffee they had on hand, he passed them going the other way, out the front doors and up the street.

"What now?" Bret asked after he'd poured a shot of whiskey for a new customer.

"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll go back and talk to people again. Might go see Henri LeClaire – I never got around to him before. Whatever I do, I'll let you know how things turn out. What's next for you?"

"I see a nap in my future. Then I've got some paperwork to do. I'll be upstairs if you need me for anything," Bret explained. "When I get my bartender back."

Twenty minutes later Jessup was back behind the bar, Bret was on his way upstairs, and Bart was headed for Chateau Elazar. He'd only been introduced to LeClaire once and was hoping that the restaurant owner was as agreeable and friendly as he'd seemed.

He was ushered into the owner's office, where Henri was busy doing the same thing as Bret; paperwork. "Monsieur Maverick, please have a seat. Was there something wrong with the coffee I sent back with Cody earlier?"

"Bart, please, Henri. No, nothing wrong with the coffee, but we've had some trouble with ours. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Not at all, Monsieur Bart. What do you wish to know?"

"Do you use the same coffee supplier that Clint Stevens and Betty Jo Dunway use?"

"No, we do not. I have a unique blend shipped from Denver twice a week. Are Clint and Betty Jo having problems, too?"

Bart shook his head. "No, they're fine. The Watering Hole is the only place with problems, and we're tryin' to figure out where they're comin' from."

The restaurant owner was silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. Finally he looked over the desk at Bart and asked, "Have you spoken to Mrs. Dunway?"

' _Hmmm. Mrs. Dunway. Why had LeClaire switched from the familiar form of the name to the formal? Was it just a figure of speech, or was he trying to tell me something? And how do I find out?'_ Those thoughts went racing through the gambler's mind as he sat across from LeClaire. "I did already, Henri. But perhaps I should again?"

"I think so. See if she'll tell you about Max Ludlow."

"She did, already." Was there more to tell than Betty Jo had divulged?

"She has a lot to say about the man."

Maybe that was the key to whichever way Henri LeClaire was trying to point Bart. Because Betty Jo didn't have much to say when Bart talked to her, other than to express her undying hatred of Ludlow.

The younger man stood and offered his hand to LeClaire. "Thanks for the information, Henri. You've given me something to think about." They shook hands, and in just a minute Bart found himself back outside the restaurant.

He had every intention of going to the café for another talk with Mrs. Dunway but instead found himself back at The Watering Hole. If Bret was still awake, he wanted to hear just what his brother had to say about the kindly widow across the street. And then maybe he could figure out what he was missing.


	16. Full Circle

Chapter 15 – Full Circle

Things were relatively peaceful at the saloon and Bart soon wandered upstairs to see if Bret was awake or asleep. Not finding him in the office, he made his way as quietly as possible down the hall, and when he was within two feet of Bret's door he could hear the snoring. Bart smiled and decided his brother had the right idea.

He hung up his coat and pulled his boots off, then grabbed the latest book he'd been reading. Maybe distracting his mind with something other than coffee and poison was a good idea, and he lay in bed and started the next chapter. A few short pages later his mind had other ideas, and he drifted off into the nap he'd contemplated . . .

 _He was sitting in the Casper Café eating breakfast with Betty Jo when, across the street, Bret walked through the batwing doors and into The Watering Hole. He'd been paying no attention to his breakfast companion until he heard the sound of a grunt and looked up to find a rather hideous expression painted across her face. He almost dropped his fork._

" _Betty Jo . . . what's wrong?"_

 _There was a look in her eyes had hadn't seen before. "Every time I see that man I just want to put a bullet in him. I hate him."_

" _My brother?" he asked incredulously._

" _Max Ludlow," came the answer._

" _Betty Jo, that's not Ludlow. That's my brother Bret. Bret Maverick. You know him."_

 _She shook her head vehemently. "I know Max Ludlow when I see him."_

" _It's not . . . I promise you it's not. It's my brother Bret."_

" _But it . . . it is, I tell you. It's Ludlow."_

 _He took her hand in his and tried to reassure her. "Betty Jo . . . they don't look anything alike. That was my brother, I guarantee it."_

 _A look spread across her face. A look that Bart could only identify as panic. "But if that's . . . it can't be. It's Ludlow, I tell you. I'd know him anywhere."_

 _He shook his head and rubbed her hand. "Betty Jo, who am I?"_

 _She looked at him then, confused. "You're . . . you're . . . I don't remember."_

" _It's Bart, Betty Jo. Bart Maverick."_

" _Bart Maverick."_

" _That's right. Bret Maverick's brother. Remember Bret? That was him that went into The Watering Hole just a few minutes ago."_

" _Bret . . . Maverick. Not Max Ludlow."_

 _He shook his head again. "That's right, Betty Jo. My brother Bret. Not Max Ludlow."_

He woke slowly, calm and peaceful, and remembered everything.

XXXXXXXX

An hour later Bret and Bart were sitting at a table in the saloon, drinking a cup of Henri LeClaire's special blend coffee. Bret was shaking his head. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Somethin' was botherin' me when I talked to Betty Jo, and I just couldn't put my finger on what it was. Now I know."

"Surely you can't believe that she . . . "

Bart shook his head. "No. I'm sure it's all connected to Ludlow, somehow. I should have caught it when she told me about her memory. But I didn't, and I'm profoundly sorry."

"What now?"

"I have to go talk to her. Then I should see the sheriff. Just to be sure . . . "

"That it never happens again."

Bart smiled. "Right. Do you want to go with me?"

"Across the street? I think it would be easier if I didn't. But I will go to Talley's office with you."

"Wish me luck," Bart stated as he got up from his seat.

"You don't need luck. You've got somethin' a lot better than luck workin' for you."

XXXXXXXX

Betty Jo was sitting in the kitchen, stirring a big pot of beef soup. "Hi, Bart!" she called as soon as he appeared in the doorway.

"Hi, Betty Jo. Do you have somebody that can take over for you? We need to talk."

"Sure, but that sounds ominous. Sally Ann, come keep an eye on this for me."

A girl of about sixteen came running into the kitchen. "Should I keep stirrin' it, Mrs. Dunway?"

"That's right, keep stirrin' it. And how many times do I hafta tell you to call me Betty Jo?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sally Ann answered, as she took hold of the big wooden spoon.

Bart took Betty Jo's hand and led her back to the last small table in the café, then pulled her chair out and helped seat her. "What is it, honey? You look so serious."

He cleared his throat. "Well, I've got somethin' serious to ask you. Remember the other day when we saw my brother Bret walk into The Watering Hole and you thought it was Max Ludlow?"

Betty Jo's face was a blank slate. "Did I? I should have known it was Bret; they don't look alike."

"That wasn't the first time you thought he was Max Ludlow, was it, Betty Jo?" Bart asked gently.

"I don't . . . well, I don't rightly know. It mighta been, or it might notta been. I just don't remember things like I used to, is all."

Bart continued. "And if it was Max Ludlow goin' in those doors and runnin' the saloon again, what were you doin' about it?"

"I was . . . I was . . . I was gonna get rid of him, once and for all."

"How, Betty Jo? How were you gonna get rid of Max Ludlow?"

She looked right at Bart, but he had no idea who she was really looking at. "I was poisoning his coffee, a little at a time. Whenever they needed coffee, I sent over a particular batch. Just for Ludlow. Just to get even with him for killin' my Harry."

Betty Jo stared off into the ether; lost for the moment in her hatred of Max Ludlow. It was a good three minutes before she shook her head and was Betty Jo Dunway again. "Oh my. Oh my, Bart. I wasn't sendin' the coffee over to Ludlow at all, was I? I was sendin' it to your brother. Oh my. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I forgot that Max didn't own the place anymore." She looked at Bart with frightened eyes. "My goodness, I was sendin' the coffee to the wrong man!"

XXXXXXXX

Bret, Bart and Sheriff Talley were all sitting in Dr. Nance's office, discussing the afternoon's events. Betty Jo Dunway was at home, where Bart and the doctor had taken her; once there the doctor gave her a sedative. Her daughter Henrietta was with her. A big pot of coffee sat on the corner of Doc's desk, and all four men were doing their best to drink it before it got cold.

"All that time?" Sheriff Talley asked, and then repeated. "All that time."

Bart nodded his head. "Yep. Thinkin' it was Max Ludlow she was poisonin', never intendin' to harm a hair on Bret's head."

Bret looked across the desk at his brother. "I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

"You'd have been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for me," Bart laughed, then got serious. "She'd have killed both of us eventually, without ever intending to."

"And you don't wanna press charges?" the sheriff questioned.

Bret shook his head. "Nope. It sure wasn't intentional."

"But she tried to kill you, Bret," Doctor Nance reminded him.

"No, Doc, she tried to kill Ludlow. She never meant to kill me."

"How will they survive?" Bart asked.

"They'll be alright," the doctor explained. "Henrietta is fully capable of running the café. As long as Betty Jo doesn't try to do anything other than sit around and smile at the customers, she can go in just like always."

"And the poison will leave Bret's system with time? And no lingering effects?" Bart wanted to be sure before everything was finally put to rest.

Nance's head was bobbing up and down. "It will. Stomach's gonna be tender for a while. Several small meals during the day might be better than two or three big ones. And cut back on the coffee for a few weeks. Give your system a chance to recover. Eventually things will go back to normal."

"I don't know how to thank you, Doc." Bret's face wore a small smile.

"Don't thank me. Thank your brother."

"My brother knows how I feel. I owe him my life."

TBC


	17. South

Chapter 16 – South

Two weeks later Bart's stomach was back to normal, and Bret was feeling much better. Arrangements had been made for Betty Jo Dunway to be the official hostess at Casper Café and nothing more. Her daughter Henrietta took over the daily operation of the establishment, and no one was the wiser.

Once Bret began to get well, he had a long afternoon with Ruby Jane, explaining everything that had happened and deciding what the future held for the two of them. Once they were honest about their feelings, both found it easy to admit that they liked each other a lot. A whole lot. But they weren't in love with each other, and probably wouldn't ever be. Saying good-bye is a lot easier when everyone knows the truth.

A proposition was made to Cody Jessup and he happily accepted the offer. Bret and Cody went to see a lawyer and a contract and ownership paperwork were drawn up, highly agreeable to both of them. Cody would assume ninety percent ownership of the saloon, with Bret retaining the other ten percent. Cody would pay a fixed amount each month towards the purchase of the bar, to be deposited in Bret's account at the local bank. All decisions about the place were now in the hands of the former manager, including what it looked like, how long it was open and what it was named. Bret would have a small stream of income from the retained ownership; Cody admitted he liked the current name, and The Watering Hole remained The Watering Hole.

Bart's premonitions in the form of nightmares stopped for the time being, and whatever differences he and his brother had that began the whole disagreement all those months ago were long since put to rest. Both men were pleased to be back in the other one's good graces and were busy deciding where they were going next as they sat at a table in the saloon one Friday afternoon.

"I don't care where it is, as long as it's warm," Bart remarked.

"Got no problem with that at all," his brother replied.

"How about if we head on down towards Cheyenne? If it's nothin' to stay for we can keep goin' south to Denver, get in there before it turns cold."

Bret nodded. "Alright, sounds good to me. I guess if we're gonna go we should think about packing. I'm sure Cody would like the bedrooms back now that he knows they belong to him."

Bart waggled his finger. "Tsk, tsk, brother dear. Ninety percent of them belong to him. The other ten percent is still yours. I doubt if Cody cares how long we stay."

"I heard that," Cody yelled from behind the bar.

"Well, do you?"

A hearty laugh from the new saloon owner. "Be my guest. You don't have to go at all if you don't want to."

"Ah, but we do. We've been here far too long, and it's time we moved on. Ain't that right, Brother Bart?"

The younger gambler nodded. "That's true, Brother Bret."

"Then what do you say we start packing?"

"Sounds like a reasonable request."

"Cody, she's all yours," Bret responded. "Take care of her, would you?"

"Like she was my own, Mr. Maverick. Like she was my own."

The End


End file.
